If I don't get out of bed ever, I will die a putrid gelatinous death--starvation, bedsores, muscle atrophy, and the works. I don't want to die, especially in such a disgusting manor, so I must get out of bed sometime. Since I now have established that I, in fact, do have to get out of bed, I might as well do it now as five minutes from now or three days, and probably should have fifteen minutes ago, but it makes no difference what time really I perform this undesirable action, one time making little difference than the rest--it is still the same process any time. I get up to do the things I am "supposed to" by doing the thing I "have to" do sometime anyway. If there was any other way . . .
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