I woke up yesterday morning and the world was completely blanketed in fog.  As I began to drive to work, the fog was so dense it was hard to see the road.  I smiled, because I love fog.  There’s something quiet about fog–this gray mass blanketing everything and keeping the world soft and misty.  There’s something fairy-tale like about it–as if I had woken up in another dimension–and that was nice because this dimension isn’t very awesome right now.

But, then I got onto the highway and the layer of fog was gone–replaced by a unseasonably warm, sunny morning.  The mist and magic evaporated and I still had to go teach students who seem to have been programed not to listen.
NaNoWriMo Update:  Yeah…not so much.