The alarm goes off, and I hit snooze. A few times. Then I wake up, look at the clock. 8:30. Shit. I must have turned it off. I get up rather quickly, start to rush, and then relax. If I don't have set hours, why does it matter? I can just stay late, as if anyone would notice.

A glance outside. It wasn't snowing when I went to bed, where'd it all come from? The beautiful white landscape, polluted by roads, cars, slush, as the snow comes down to attempt to bury that and make things serene. A bad drive, even though I'm close.

A shower, a bowl of cereal (I need some oatmeal for mornings like this, something warm.), and I eventually wander out to the car, and clear it off. Snow inside my gloves, up my sleeve, in my socks. Cold, as effective as the shower at waking me up.

A slow drive, and I make it in to work by 10:00. Some time reading websites that I ignored over the weekend, some time on Everything. Plenty of people not at work, but that's not too suprising. An e-mail, announcing that the facility will be closing at noon, and I need to go home. Always nice.

I have yet another day to my weekend, as there wasn't enough time at work to really count. A change into comfy flannel pants, my hair in pigtails for fun, and plenty of time ahead.

I play, I clean (still stuff to be done, but not much), I chat on IRC, I play. A wasted day is always good.

About 6:30, I decide it's time to do something I've been putting off. Friends from college that I haven't talked to much, that don't yet know about the details of my big changes in my life, deserve to be informed. I take the time to write, not just a small note, but something that runs to a couple pages long, and I feel good about.

I click send. Amazing how such a small action can initiate such a big response. My stomach starts dancing the Nutcracker Suite in fast forward. Was this the best method? I'll soon find out.

More playing, no response. More chatting, no response. One bounced message, an e-mail address out of date, she might not find out for a while.

Hours pass. A response. The same person who's e-mail bounced - someone else forwarded it on to her, as I asked them to forward to anyone I missed. The person who forwarded it is an important friend to me, that I want to stay that way - he's read it, but not responded. I am uncertain how to take it.

I realize that, as people read, as they respond, I get to see deep into who they are, by initial reaction alone. The core personality is exposed with something so big, so important, that they can hardly react. I will know things about them I never knew before, and they may not even realize that I have learned these things. It is appropriate, though, as I've dug deep into myself and given them a window into me that few expect to see, and I get a glance in return.

Bedtime arrives, and I wonder what the future will bring. Other than work, which seems a given, as the snow has stopped coming down.