I was going to say I've gotta get that little cube of a space heater my mama bought me back when & stick it under this desk. Even in socks and boots my feet are freezing, as they always do, at this corner of the no-sub-floor floor. (I think there's just crawl space under me here, too.)
I've been futzing with my taxes here at 3 something a.m. Trying to get down all the details. Looks like I won't owe 'em anything, despite the hunk o' freelance last year. That's good.
I paid bills earlier this evening.
It's so touch-and-go that way, operating on no margin, or a negative one, most months. I try not to let it get to me too much---one volitional way of letting money ruin one's life is to be all down about it much of the time. Or even some of the time beyond what's necessary or helpful.
My frugal February has been a mixed bag. Haven't gotten the heating bill yet, though. That's going to tip the bag over into lopsidedness, I fear.
Saw Mrs. H with O earlier, then kinda crashed the end of RR, where J was Uing, and ran into S and A.
Gotta get these cold feet under the covers.