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I’ve been trying to avoid having to light a fire in the woodstove.  Lighting a fire means carrying in wood, and with a recovering toe, a sore back, and an absent wife, I don’t want to carry firewood.  I managed to convince myself that 55 degrees isn’t so bad.  Just put on a sweater, some wool socks, it’s fine.  However.  This morning when I came downstairs and saw that the INDOOR temperature is 50.4 degrees, I capitulated.  There is a lovely fire going in our woodstove.  The animals are all deeply grateful, and so am I.