We did it. We broke down. Wool socks (and mitts…and little neck warmers…and sweaters) were no longer enough. We turned on the heat. We waited till November first and until the temperature inside fell to 50, but we still did it. It always feels somehow like I’ve lost a sort of virtuous struggle. I’m not sure why. Being cold does not actually build character. But it still feels that way every year. At least until it gets properly warm in here, at which point it just feels good.