As I drove up the winding road to my driveway, I idly mused upon the socioeconomic impact of my life's work as I contemplated the past week of rain. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 53 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 41. It would be easy to confuse with 60 grit carborundum on asphalt. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I located M 87. It seemed almost diamonds on light grey velvet. Next, I checked off M 74 in Ursa Major. It took me back to the first time I saw a dodo bird, extinct but for this celestial likeness.
After a short break to munch cheesy poofs, I added to my logbook M 14. It looked exactly like spent coals, faintly glowing. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I found by accident IC 3028. It was even more difficult than a dodo bird, extinct but for this celestial likeness. Then, for a real challenge, I tracked down IC 271. It somewhat resembled a far-away cloud. With that checked off my list, I slewed to Abell 42. It was easy, just like the eternal nothingness of being. With that checked off my list, I had a chance to see IC 1192 in Ursa Minor. It appeared to be cotton candy. Then, I glimpsed NGC 1889 in Fornax. It would be easy to confuse with Alan Rickman. Then, for a real challenge, I checked out B 300 in Septans. It shimmered, as if it were ripples of water. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I added to my logbook IC 2642. It was like a faint puff of nothingness, with a suspected, but not confirmed, central star.
Finally, it was time to pack up and leave. As I drove home, I contemplated the events of the night, and realized that any night out under the sky with good friends is better than being strapped naked to an anthill.