I’m going to paint this onto the ceiling over my bed as a reminder of one of the few rules in life that always works, because bedtime is the best time to figure things out, especially when I’m sleep deprived, which I’ve been for the last two weeks, so why not take advantage of such a heightened state of mind to, while I lie there, balance my checkbook, concoct my first novel, plan my weight loss program, listen to my mind’s perfect rendition of Chained Melody, write something better than this or this, determine who’s to blame for everything I can think of, rehearse conversations I wanted to have and never will (especially revenge conversations in which I reveal to key observers how clever I am while, without name-calling, subtly and unmistakably humiliating my nemesis), woo Helena Bonham Carter, wow Terry Gross, and discover my true neuroses— all reliable insights uncovered at 2am.