Off to Florida tomorrow morning for a couple of days with the in-laws (and mopping up the last of the outstanding writing assignments for this week). I have been Mr. Tension Torque Grinder the last few days, multitasking as much as possible and permitting myself minimal time outside the apartment. (How minimal? The first issue of The Pulse has been out for over a week and I still haven't gotten my copy, that's how minimal.) The couch/computer sandwich knows me too well at this point, and various pleasure-art things I've been working on have been cast aside like the overcooked glutinous buckwheat soba noodles I made for dinner a couple of nights ago. Every so often I lie down on our lovely wooden floor to try to calm myself by applying equal pressure to as much of my back as I can squeeze down on it at once. And then Edie comes over and bats me in the head.
My big clever Portland plan will have to wait until the big bubbles of the froth of necessity subside a little next week, I suspect.