It has finally gotten cold here in Northern Florida. I refuse to turn my heater on until I can see my breath in the house because I love having lower electric bills and it is an excuse to wear all the lovely woolen things that I knit all year long. Let's fail to recognize that I have so many lovely woolen knit hats that I can change them throughout the day. So my toes are toasty warm in their woolen socks. My body is toasty warm in its woolen fair isle sweater. My head is toasty warm under a beautiful woolen cap. The problem is that my fingers are freezing and it is very difficult to type while holding a mug of tea with both hands.
It isn't that I don't have lovely woolen knit things for my hands. I do. I have a pair of cabled woolen mittens in forest green. I also own a pair of bright pink woolen gloves with cute cables running up and down them. And somewhere I own a pair of beautiful dark turquoise Fetchings (fingerless gloves) made out of Malabrigo (the most sumptuous sheep's wool ever!) They are slightly felted (due to my washing them in the pocket of my jeans by accident) but fit my small hands just fine. Except one of them has crawled off and left me. I have only one Fetching and it is not doing me any good. Which leads me to question why I am torturing myself trying to write when I could be making a new pair.