Winter of My Discontent

 I don't know what to say. It's beyond cold here, and absolutely miserable. One day last week, the sun finally came out and the snow started to melt. It got up to a downright tropical 46 degrees Fahrenheit. I thought, It's going to be ok.

Then I looked out the window.

After it all stopped, this is what it looked like:

Not a ton of snow, in the grand scheme of things. But it's not the snow. It's the temperatures. Lows ranging in the -3 to 3 degree region, and highs in the low teens. I was not built for this kind of weather.
Just a five minute walk (wearing long underwear, cashmere sweaters, every kind of handknit imaginable - socks, scarf, hat, mittens, plus a coat) has me chilled to the bone. 

I don't know how people live like this, but I've taken to knitting furiously against the cold. And soup. Lots of soup. 

There's this sweater. (Only my third. Maybe it will work better than the previous two.)

And then there are these socks. I didn't bother to block them once they were off the needles - they got five minutes worth of pictures, and then they went right on my feet. 

 Please, send some warmth my way. Lots of it, and soon.

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