Oh, it IS cold out there.

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I set the furnace down to 68 last night.  66 is too cool, with no direct heat upstairs.  Higher and it is too warm up there.  I keep a fan on low, for circulation, right on me.  No windows open, anymore, or for now.  It was 66 in my area, 64 in the general area.  But outside is 35!  This front room reads 65, the main reads right at 68.  Warm pj's and socks is enough.  At 66 it is just a bit too cold.  That is my breaking point, currently.  When winter hits, even 70~72 may require extra clothing.  When it is cold 'in the corners too', and when it's been too cold for too long, then extra just helps.  This is my first real year trying to fight it, so we will see.

Graces seem to come and go, but one has become a near staple.  Even when willfully against it, it seems truly, now a gift.  Odd how I can set out to undercut the grace, and still lose.  So... when does grace and sinlessness become easier then sin?  I can't tell you, or if it stays, only that I have it for the moment with stupendous gratitude.  It isn't mine to take, or borrow, or such.  It is mine, for the moment, to enjoy.  I had one sin continuously plaguing me, one I couldn't stop.  It has been gone for a while now.  And I tell you, it... is beyond me.  A gift.  Truly.  Something I have been struggling with for fifteen years.  The will and way remain, but the flesh... is graced.

I always wonder, at such times, if I am dying.  Or if death is immanent?  I suppose we are all dying, we were born dying.  Like an airplane, and gravity, we stay above death just so long but we all must land, sometime.  I am not, as it were, a glider.  I am a tank with wings.  When engines failed, I should have dropped like a rock.  Yet, here I am.  That, too, is a grace, if a painful dark one.  And, yet, a cross I bear with as much grace as I have to give.  It... ain't pretty.  It just is.

So... what to do.  A shower, again, shortly.  Working on the feet again.  They don't really seem to get much better, even with daily bathing, then rasping every other or third day, plus heavy balming.  They remain... in difficult shape.  With my extra weight, if I were on my feet all day?  Maybe.  But I sit most of the day, with nearly no weight on my feet.  And, I keep socks on, all day.  And most of the night.  Even then I keep them under the blankets.  Difficult to manage, but I do my best.  Not sure it actually ends up mattering almost at all.  *sigh*

Well, yes.  A shower, laundry started, the last of the dishes, ducks and girls.  A bit of gathering and sorting.  The bathroom.  Lots to do, if I am so tired.  Will... see.  Later.