I'm waiting for the guy who really, truly isn't impressed at all by fame. Whose values just don't swing that way.
I'm waiting for the guy who doesn't think I'll be a "real" writer once I've written a novel.
I have been cleaning my apartment for a day or so, and it is getting pretty anal. At the moment, I am picking dust bunnies out of my hairbrush with tweezers. This is how it gets sometimes.
You can't save the world, but you can save your hairbrush.