Just when I think I have compartmentalized "work" to a well-defined period between 10 and 6, separated from my personal life by an hour long walk through the present, I discover, in some new setting such as a party or while reading fiction, that the only thing I can talk or think about intelligently and knowledgeably is work. I rarely watch movies anymore, rarely go to theater or galleries or lectures or edifying activities of any kind. If I am not working, I am dead tired at home and struggling to stay current with chores, errands, and other necessary tasks of fatigue. And, even when I have managed to pick up a book to read, I now find that I am skimming the fiction like I might skim e-mail, remembering nothing.