Sometimes I need a reminder of why I woke up in the first place, and I can't possibly be the only one.
I felt it a little earlier when I escorted a friend to the station, it was much colder than usual, crisp almost. The way the wind skins you when you've forgotten about something, or when it's about to snow.
The second time I met with the ungracious breeze to fetch some milk, it was literally flooding snowflakes from the murky polluted lumps called clouds, illuminated by the cracked lamp posts with a sort of dark copper shadow. I stood there staring up at the fiasco of miniscule missile-like icicles for at least five minutes like some kind of kook, while nodding off my head to MGMT's Electric Feel.
I then proceeded to walk as paced as possible, gulping snowflakes at an angle until I reached the store where a woman noticed I was covered, and asked "Is that really snow!?" to which I exclaimed; "They can be melted icecream drops if you want them to."