Update to what I planned to do this morning: Well, I failed.

I was woken up this morning by my Grandmother.  I think it was until I actually got up off my bed that I remembered that I wanted to wake up at 6:30, about 3 1/2 hours earlier, to help out my parents shovel out the driveway.

After administering Grandmother's insulin shots, I wondered what happened to the alarm I set on my cellphone.  I thought I put it on my tissue cozy, but after opening and closing my blanket, I saw my phone, opened, on the floor between the bed and the nightstand.  I've become increasingly resistant to the alarm; I figure that my body hated hearing the alarm 105 minutes after going to bed at a quarter to 5, and I was able to not snooze it but actually turn it off without becoming fully awake.

I thought Father was going to yell at me.  Just to get it over with, and because I really wanted to know if he needed help at the store or warehouse or one of his properties, I called him in the afternoon after I was able, miraculously, to use the snowblower on the driveway.  (That it worked proves there is a deity.)  He didn't need help, and he didn't give me any tone while saying so.  In fact, he really wanted to ask me if I had any days off this week so we can roast pork in the oven.

I was clearing off the driveway again (it was supposed to stop snowing in the afternoon, but I think it kept flurrying through 10 o'clock or so) when they came home.  No anger from him, or from Mother.  Phew!

Still, I feel guilty.  Clearing the driveway and the patio -- as well as doing it again tomorrow -- is the least I could do to make up for it.  They don't know what I planned on doing, but I still feel bad I failed to follow through on my intentions.