For a few months the disappointed ant was able (with only a little despair which was more distracting, really, than uncomfortable) to enjoy small, private, and ultimately pointless things like walking around pretending to be a machine; lying in bed listening to lyrically excruciating emo music but focusing only on the drums; and turning off all the lights at 3 p.m., drinking iced coffee, putting down the curtains, and lying in bed thinking about good feelings it had felt in the past.