I'm tired. I feel like I've been slaying dragons all day. From the weather to the traffic to all the people in my office, nothing seems to be cooperating. I'd go home early, but I took a half-day off yesterday, so it hardly seems fair to run away again, especially when the time off didn't seem to improve my disposition any. Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow there's a game, and I have tickets in hand.
On the ride into work this morning I let myself be lost in the foggy mist and enjoyed the last of the snow from this past weekend. It will no doubt be gone soon, soaked into the ground as if it never existed. Snow for me has always held a deeper meaning. I am happiest when it snows, yet I couldn't begin to explain why. So I looked out the window, imagining romantic characters striding across the pure white expanses, and just breathed in the beauty. Snow wraps around the seemingly dead landscape, and whispers promises of rebirth and renewal as it gently cradles the world in its soft, white blanket.
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