Zerotasking

That's the caption of a cartoon in the current New Yorker, and it seems to describe my current state of mind fairly accurately. For one who considers himself a virtuoso multitasker, the knack for doing nothing comes surprisingly easy. The appearance of The New Yorker, which we just re-subscribed to, was a high point of the day, and Anthony Lane's lethal pan of The Day After Tomorrow justified the price of the subscription - he's at his best with a bad movie, spinning mots like shuriken (those throwing-stars flung by the protagonists of William Gibson novels). "...'The Day After Tomorrow' is irretrievably poor: a shambles of dud writing and dramatic inconsequence which left me determined to double my consumption of fossil fuels."
Other highlights of a zero-tasking day: breakfast at Sam's Morning Glory Diner with the Henderson-Prices (love the breakfast burrito, even if the chef was too liberal with the hot sauce this morning); a stroll among the Isaiah Zagar masterpieces along South Street; an impulsive tour of a house for sale (340,000 for two bedrooms, two baths); a long bike ride with Kerry that took us out past the Art Museum along the Schuylkill (we turned back and made it home just in time to beat a summer thunderstorm that blew up suddenly). and then (don't tell!) a nap on the futon. This is too decadent and will certainly have to stop soon.