Dear Marion,

Thank you for your letter. I hadn't heard about
the windstorm. I'm relieved that you arrived home safely.
It appears that the packing in Konnarock, the two day
trip back, and the unpacking here has disrupted various
trains of thought which I seem unable to reestablish with
anything close to their former fluency, as if there
were too many issues demanding my attention and as if
I lacked the memory and the mental agility to move from
one competing project to the next, each one of such
complexity that I'm unable to complete it, before turning
to another challenge vying for attention.

Most prominently my novel, of which chapter 42 is much
too long. The juncture at which I had to break off on
leaving Konnarock was very dramatic, and although I
remember the challenge, I find it difficult to recover
the drama. But I'll keep trying. With regard to our
discussions of fact and theories, I concluded that I
did not have the resources to extend myself to the
regions of molecular biology and evolution of species
which so fascinate you; but that I must cultivate my
understanding of matters of more immediate practical
concern, like the diagnosis and treatment of glaucoma
with which I have much theoretical and practical experience,
or vascular hypertension, or any one of the plethora of
medical issues about which "knowledge" is proliferating
and both theories and facts abound.

In addition, many "housekeeping" tasks, a spectrum extending
from estate tax planning - which you think should be left
to "experts", investing, the heating system repairs that I
may have described, putting in order and cleaning the basement
and the garage, not to speak of the front and back yards,
disposing of the old car whose uphostery is overgrown with mold,
and not least, replacing or repairing the Nantucket surveillance
computer which has not functioned since October 16. I am
determined not to complain, but I anticipate a change in the
tenor and content of my letters reflecting the circumstance
that I have undertaken more than I am able to complete and that
I have not yet learned to come to terms with my inadequacies.
I hope that you are well and happy.
Jochen