A confession is in order. I often only skim-read the political columnists these days; I frequently miss Matthews and Olbermann on MSNBC; I don’t check in daily with the better political blogs.

This doesn’t mean my life is empty. Books are being devoured again. The new satellite television system gives me six channels of simultaneous Wimbledon, some with English broadcasters, meaning I don’t have to watch the Williams sisters all the time and whichever American male will be gone by the fourth round. There are tomatoes on the balcony to tend.