You know that feeling where you get so annoyed by the mess in your house and by the person who leaves his stuff EV-ERY-WHERE, then you go on a tear and start cleaning everything and realize that it’s actually YOUR stuff that is EV-ERY-WHERE and that it is actually YOU who is the slob, and then you’re even more annoyed because you don’t want to be annoyed with yourself and you REALLY enjoyed the feeling of righteous indignation, so now you’re doubly annoyed at yourself for not only being a messy Bessy but for invalidating your sweet, sweet moment of self-satisfaction and superiority?

Neither do I.