You can always take pleasure in feeding a dog. The dog ate and is glad. It makes that satisfied sound and looks happy with life.
I'm so sick I might vomit, though. There is so much doubt in my head, like a seed that had been planted germinating... it's scary.
Taking comfort in meaninglessness. I don't think I can do it.
I guess there is big fun, then there is little fun. As ridiculous as it sounds, I haven't found little fun. The big, it comes with responsibility, and oath, and certain burden I must bear. Little fun is supposed to be pure, simple, totally selfish.