I was in a rush this morning. Of course, having all the time in the world to get ready for work (I woke up at around 4am), I put everything off until the last minute. And it was that extra bowl of cereal that pushed me over the edge--I was officially running late. I scrambled and got all my things together and headed out the door, which was frozen shut. Eventually the ice broke loose and I dashed to the bus stop. Unfortunately, I had already missed the bus. But as soon as that fact set in, I had the chance to just stand back and admire the snow. It wasn't one of those blustery storms, but a peaceful morning snow shower. It's been a while since I've taken the time to watch the flakes as they danced their intricate choreography. And even in the more ghetto parts of town (through which my journey to work takes me), the snow was just as beautiful. It's odd that the forgiving blanket of fresh snow can make any area just as pretty--no matter how many dilapidated buildings there are. Too bad it didn't mask the odour coming from the sewer grate. That would have been nice.