It starts like that small pile of junk in your garage. It gets bigger and bigger, bit by bit, each day. Maybe all of a sudden, years later, your garage is packed with old newspapers whose headlines are either insignificant or terrifying. You can’t even navigate. You want to find something in that small pile from before. Something that you were sure was in here. Something important. But you’ve let it sink beneath years of neglect. These problems don’t go away on their own, you know. It’s like that teeny baby spider you felt bad for and didn’t kill, which has now grown into the poisonous monster that bit you and made your leg swell with venom. You should have killed that spider. You should have cleaned the garage. Now it’s all such a mess of insignificance and terror.