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That evening, Arthur sat in his favorite chair. The draft was still there, swirling around the floorboards, but it didn't matter. His feet were in a private, climate-controlled sanctuary. He didn't read a leather-bound book, and he didn't drink a martini. He just sat there, warm and victorious, watching the sunset over his toes.

Arthur stood in the middle of his living room, his toes curling against the hardwood floor like a cat on a cold countertop. It was 6:00 AM, and the draft snaking under the front door had finally won the war against his thickest wool socks. It was time for a change. It was time for the "Great Slipper Quest." buy mens slippers

"I need slippers," Arthur told the clerk, a man whose mustache looked professionally sculpted. "But not just any slippers. I want something that says, 'I might read a leather-bound book today, or I might just eat cereal in the dark.'" That evening, Arthur sat in his favorite chair