My dad sent me a picture of his mom from 1927:
Look at those big wonderful nostrils. That’s where I get my monstrous flaring nose-holes. I’ve always been proud of them. I’m from a clan of hellacious sniffers. My odor-detection abilities come from the Ohio branch of the family tree.
I wish I could sleep. Instead, I must finish this goddamn paper about The Matrix, and the Ramifications of Descartes’ Scepticism Within. Then I will eat, and go on the radio, and watch Planet of the Apes. Then I will sleep, get up and work nine hours, sleep, get up and work five hours, sleep, get up and work eight hours. Sleep, work eight hours, sleep, work eight hours.
Rinse, repeat until a) my head blows up or b) I retire comfortably.