This sort of takes you over. I did make it to the store last night, but before that I was just eating peanut butter with a spoon. I woke up in the middle of the night with something abrading my leg, and discovered guitar strings in the bed. I rolled over and fell back asleep rather than do anything about it. This morning I straightened my sheets and a tuner fell out.
I am back from Portland. I found my dream apartment, or some close approximation; a generously proportioned one-bedroom with refinished hardwoods, about three blocks from Powell's on Hawthorne. In three weeks I move.
What till then?
For the moment, I'm clearing away detritus. This is what moving is about; you sort through the contents of your life, keep what pleases you, discard what doesn't. I'm starting from scratch here.