It is laziness, pure and simple. A more precise description could be provided, to give a bit more depth to the impression of self-flagellation that the word "laziness" might give, but there is nothing wrong with the word itself.
I just spent three days in Brisbane, whose river before a storm is pictured above, visiting an exhibition of Spanish painting from the Prado at the Queensland Art Gallery and looking at other paintings (in particular some by William Robinson in a gallery devoted to his work at the Queensland Institute of Technology). I had put in some work on the Prado paintings, reading the substantial catalogue a couple of times along with a few other works on Spanish painting. This, combined with having ample time to look at them, gave me a kind of affectionate familiarity with the paintings from the Prado that enriched the pleasure I took in them in a way which made clear the value of research in the specific context of aesthetic enjoyment. Knowledge is not the enemy of feeling or pleasure.
I have been reading Kingsley Amis, The Old Devils, with great satisfaction. His prose is so good - it has the depth and vitality of poetry. I have avoided him hitherto, except for a few odds and ends, for reasons of which I am not fully aware, but which have something to do with disapproval. The loss has been mine, of course, and no small loss. Or rather, no small opportunity, to read him now.
Another photograph from Brisbane: a church visible from Queen Street, which I think of as "Brisbane Cathedral" just because of how it looks and not because of any knowledge of its correct name. I regret not visiting it. I like sitting in Churches. Maybe next time.