This morning I managed to leave the house at least six or seven minutes earlier than usual, and so instead of swinging my legs as fast as they would go, I bounced along in a springy fashion that slowed my progression, and looked at the pink streaky sky, and chirped to myself enthusiastically. "Tonight," said I to myself, "I will go straight home after work, and I will eat leftovers, and read! That will be lovely, reading!" said I to myself.
I grinned widely and bounced even higher, and felt ever so smug over my brilliant idea.
By afternoon, when I had disposed of various suspicions about the computer's behavior and set myself methodically to confirming that it was really doing what it was supposed to do and not trying sneakily to take people's money away from them, my thoughts wandered back to my plans for the evening. It was then that it struck me: there's no very great brilliance in resolving to do exactly the same thing that one does, after all, always do.
But I shall enjoy myself anyway. So there.