I really hate complaining about the sleep patterns of children. I despise it. So I won't do it. Yet, probably in reading that, you are realizing that I likely have a reason for saying it. That in itself turns that fact that I say I don't want to complain about sleep patterns into a complaint about sleep patterns.
As my lack of complaint turns itself wholly into a complaint, I must wonder if it is the content of the complaint that irritates me, or the simple matter of there being a complaint. If the former, well then I'm in the clear, for I've shared no content. If the latter, well then I've just gone and bitten myself in the tail, haven't I.
Sometimes when I get in a thought spiral, I imagine myself circling in it so tight, logarithmically, that the thought itself develops a thick, hard, shell and encases me protectively like a nautilus.