Accepting the fact I will be up all night and not torturing myself by trying to sleep. Writing into the wee hours of the morn in my toasty nest of pillows.
Psychologically evaluating my cat when he decides to use my laptop as his mattress while I'm using it, even though I know my thoughtful observations will mean nothing to the furry fruitcake.
"Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get, but if you work really hard, and you're kind, amazing things will happen. I'm telling you...amazing things will happen" --Conan O'Brien
Is it that by its indefiniteness it shadows forth the heartless voids and immensities of the universe, and thus stabs us from behind with the thought of annihilation, when beholding the white depths of the milky way?