This week, I read....
Nothing.
Well, not quite nothing. I did read half of a book review by Adam Gopnik (whom I really like) in the New Yorker on some French chef who killed himself, but that was all. I didn't' not want to finish the review, but I didn't want to either. I also have a new and untouched Atlantic Monthly staring back at me.
I plead: a writing project in process, student papers to read, family drama, and three Champions' League soccer matches on TV this week, of which the Milan derby is still waiting to be watched.
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