I think I’m going to start a commune.  Or host an orgy.  I don’t know — which one is quicker? I moved week before last.  I was able to walk, more or less, and I hired two semi-enthusiastic 20-somethings to take my paltry items and put them in the smallish truck I rented and take them out again 10 miles farther west.  And I even had time to buy a robin’s egg blue sofa and a butter yellow leather chair, and they were even delivered the SAME DAY, after which I looked around, my head still slightly spinning on its axis, and said, “I’m home.” The next day my-neighbor-the-artist knocked…