I woke up at 5.30 this morning, with a sore throat and a head manically producing lists of things that need to be dealt with over the weekend.
The cat is ill again and needs to be taken to the vet, pronto; my students' test books and homework are waiting on the desk and need to be marked by Monday morning; it's grandpa's birthday on Sunday - I need to think of something more creative for a present than yet another pair of socks; a dear childhood friend from my hometown in Croatia found me on Facebook and emailed me last weekend, and I haven't had any time to write her back; I've got two hours of Latin & Greek to teach from 2 pm, and I haven't prepared anything in advance.
The cacophony went on and on like that for what seemed like half an hour, but it turned out to be no longer than a minute or two. Time seems to run at a different pace when you're in that semi-awake state in the wee hours of morning.
All of a sudden the mental clatter disappeared as I realised that the trees outside were covered with a thick layer of snow. Instantly I felt like a child with no worries on his mind, none whatsoever. Hey, it's snowing! What could possibly be more relevant or important than that?
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