It is unfair to label today’s unadorned and unproductive indolence as wasteful. Wastefully extravagant, perhaps; but not spent unwisely. Nor do I consider the fleeting matters of mind and spirit trifling. Regularly now I am learning that having nothing in particular to do, being at unqualified ease to congregate upon a whim, to spend boundless hours in fitful discussion and hilarity, having no agenda to be heedful of – these are the pardonable affectations that now justifiably and properly absorb my attention. As a result I am equally unrepentant. Indeed I am inclined to think that if one were not – for some reason that I cannot begin to imagine – disposed to adopt these characteristics for blush or colour, then surely there must be unfathomable difficulty at hand.