This morning felt dead. Like the world had died overnight and frozen where it lay. I swam through my becoming-normal-lately lethargy in getting ready for work. I went outside to the car, and the light around me was hard and flat. Everything, even if it was moving, looked post-apocalyptic. Buildings looked deserted and vaguely ominous. Cars on the expressway somehow didn’t seem to be moving. People waiting at bus stops looked like zombies. The snow that fell was sparse and fluffy and spun crazily in the gusts of wind and jetstreams from cars. It was almost more like fallout ash.

And yet, I drove towards what was an exceptional sunrise. Like a show of nature’s desperation to break free of the bleakness of today, with vibrant pink, coral, and orange seeping into the blued steel sky and reflecting in shades of salmon and violet off the scattered clouds. The sky struggled for life, though it seemed an invisible ceiling covered the world, and the light didn’t quite penetrate. Trompe l’oeil, maybe?

Currently, the sun is out, and is reflecting rather prettily off the falling snowflakes. Inside, we are surrounded by odd-looking balloon “bouquets”, heralding the arrival of our new iSeries/AS400 system. They have a strange alien quality, rather like sentinels. A number of people have commented on it. Granted, the big balloon in each arrangement is black.

I still feel a little tired, a little sad, and as disengaged as I’ve mostly felt the last week or so. Even an inappropriately Photoshopped picture from the Work Husband only solicited a MAIC (mildly amused internal chuckle – his “realistic” replacement for the hated, and generally inaccurate “LOL”). I have plans for tonight that I’d normally be quite looking forward to. There is occasion to celebrate. I’m hoping I perk up this afternoon. Perhaps once I leave work, and choose a bottle of wine.

I sent an email yesterday to which I don’t really expect a reply. Not like when you email someone famous whose blog or web site you follow, or submit a complaint to some faceless corporation’s feedback form. This was an email to someone with whom I’ve exchanged probably thousands of emails. But the track record of communication with him leads me to believe he will not reply, which saddens me and adds another grey blanket to my mood. I could be wrong. It would be great if I am. I don’t want him to go away. But you can’t make someone talk to you. Without a reply, that’s the last email I plan to send him. Yes, it was an ultimatum of sorts. He’s someone I like, and someone I could value a great deal, but the circumstances of our acquaintanceship are rather abnormal, and insufficient for me. I deserve more than what it appears I am worth to him. So we shall see.

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