So, beyond the electric heater/fireplace in sunroom and the electric heated fan in the bathroom, you have no wood/gas to supplement? You're just toughing it out? I've read the WSJ articles about folks up north who won't turn the heat on until the house gets in the thirties, so this isn't that, but you're a trooper.
Had my HVAC checkup today, first time in several years I've had one. I had an agreement with the installation company for a five year parts/labor until they were bought by private equity. That ended that. One more reason to hate PE. My current company is owned by a guy I went to school with, great guy, takes good care of all the widows in my home community. I can't say enough good about him. Between me scheduling the checkup and having it today, I found my main level heat couldn't keep pace with the cold. Set on 70, 67 this morning, 63 the morning before. Tech found the insulation panel inside the unit (high efficiency Trane, not junk at all) had released from the metal casing and was blocking half to two-thirds of the air flow. He fixed it, and also found a dying capacitor in the upstairs furnace.
I'm on a tangent, sorry. You mentioned blankets and quilts. I'm sure I'm not unique, but I come from a family of quilters. I have an unquilted top from the 1870's, and I have a few with rust on them. Few had large closets 70-90 years ago, so in the summer the quilts were placed between the mattress and bare bedsprings, and they took on the rust from humid springs and summers. It's akin to the old beds that have dark legs (first three to five inches) compared to the lighter wood for the rest of the bed. Folks placed saucers of turpentine at each bedpost to keep the bedbugs from ascending to their destination, and it soaked up into the legs. If you ever see a very old bed with darkened legs, you'll know it sat in turpentine to "not let the bedbugs bite".
Quilts. My mom's mom wasn't a quilter. A great aunt of hers pieced her quilt top and gave it to my mom for her hope chest. They moved from Sandusky to Westover, and as my mom got older they found some local sisters who quilted to make ends meet. They had the two sisters quilt my mom's top, and back it went into the hope chest. A few years later, she falls for a local guy and they get married. Found out the sisters were his (my dad's) sisters, so my aunts quilted my mom's quilt before she ever met my dad.
Every quilt has a story.