I'm currently sitting by the window on the top floor of the library, coffee in hand, listening to Claire de Lune and pondering the physics of heavy machinery, specifically the multiple cranes swinging mere inches away from my face. I feel as if I should now say something inspirational or share the epiphany this tranquility has offered. Except the scene in my head keeps switching back and forth between a concert hall and a log cabin with a roaring fire. Why? I have no idea. Nothing revelational there. That's just what happens when I stare out windows and listen to classical music.