I feel like a female, Swiss contemporary version of Ilya Ilyich Oblomov.

Oblomov, as surely you know, is the main character of the most famous novel by Ivan Goncharov.
Set at the beginning of the nineteenth century, before the ideal of industrious modern man, when idleness was still looked upon by Russia's serf-owning rural gentry as a plausible and worthy goal, there was Oblomov. Indolent, inattentive, incurious, given to daydreaming and procrastination—indeed, given to any excuse to remain horizontal—Oblomov is hardly the stuff of heroes.

Yet, he is impossible not to admire.

He is forgiven for his weakness and beloved for his shining soul.

Someone has even compared Oblomov to Hamlet for answering “ No” to the fatal and famous question “ To be or not to be?”

I have not the titles to get deeper in this literary matter, but I can simply feel a deep sympathy for Oblomov, who probably had to cope with hot summers too.

All what is wise to do today is to do nothing active and to laze quietly, just daydreaming, brain don’t perspire even when it works.