I protect your table from a stainy fate. A little rug for your dinner plate.

Despite being good, 'cept the rug I tore, people use my name to call others bad. You're gone for a sec, But it felt like much more. You've returned to me, I'm happy, so glad. Who is a good one? Ooh, I am! I am!

I carry a silver thread inside, that creeps or retreats with warmth’s tide. I never think, yet I reveal what skin and air can make you feel.

A spectacle that protects from the suns gaze and also guides your eyes to comfortable sway

For exercise, you do me. As a punishment, you walk me. If you're dim-witted, you are me. What am I?