So after realizing that I was sitting on my couch covered with a blanket and wearing a fleece cape plus wool wristwarmers and still freezing, I fled upstairs. Which is--according to the thermometer--only two degrees warmer than downstairs, but it sure feels like a lot more than that. Now, at least, I can sit in bed and write for a while before I go back downstairs to let Mabel out and head off to sleep.

Tomorrow's the frigid auction. I'm going to wear my warmest sweater, among other things. Gathering what I plan to wear has become kind of a step-by-step thing, it seems.

I did end up making a bag today, but I'm not happy with how it turned out. It's okay; it's usable, at least, but I effectively used three skeins of yarn and don't have much to show for it. I'll have to think about my idea a bit more, it seems. Maybe my thought about constructing the bags (actually sewing them from felted pieces of handwoven fabric) would work better. We'll see.

Unfortunately, I didn't get much of anything else done today, other than to listen to NPR all day long, which was fun, but not conductive to cleaning. Oh well.

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