Plenty of things that I ought to be doing: the house bathroom needs re-tiling, the family room is years overdue for redecorating, all the cracked panes in the greenhouse need replacing. The list goes on and on. As for more constructive pastimes, the sweatshirt I'm wearing today may give a clue:
Ah yes, I've been stalled for several years somewhere in Swann's Way. Then there's Thomas Mann (with a dusty bookmark somewhere in The Tales of Jacob), Robert Musil (ditto, in The Man Without Qualities), not to mention all those unread Shakespeare plays and the whole of 19th century English literature. Is a lifetime long enough?
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