“He has no ego any more–if ever he had one. He’s split it up into hobbies. He has at least three hobbies that I know of–and they all have to do with a big, ten-thousand-dollar workroom in his basement, full of power tools and vises and God knows what else. Nobody who’s really using his ego, his real ego, has any time for any goddam hobbies.” Zooey suddenly broke off. He was still lying with his eyes closed and his fingers laced, quite tightly, across his chest, his shirt-front. But he now ground his face into a deliberately pained expression–a form, apparently, of self-criticism. “Hobbies,” he said. “How did I get off onto hobbies?” He lay still for a moment.     J.D. Salinger, Franny & Zooey

Bradley has told me that I might have to give up crochet.  He might be right.