They come at you, all the time, piling up like garbage at a landfill. Each one by itself is insignificant, and you know that in time, they will not matter.
Perhaps that is what makes them so hard to deal with. They are so trivial; what is the point? Why exert yourself?
But if you do not, they soon bury you. So you work them out, clean them up, handle each one in turn... over, and over, and over again... until you are exhausted.
But you can't really complain because... after all... they are trivial. Right?
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