Today is to be day of plodding accomplishment: tedious things have to be done. You have to be content with the small gains of getting things all in order, but it feels like such a wasted day.
Perhaps its listening to Beethoven that does it. The consequence, the exhilarance, the moment and cosmic joy, and all the while you’re making sure that all your footnotes are properly insulated for the deep winter of scrutiny a teacher may or may not have time to subject the thing to.
But if I give up on anything, it will not be the Beethoven.