Okay, everyone, I was kidding. I am NOT moving to Baker St--as far as I know, there is no Baker St. in Portland. I thought more people would catch all the Sherlock Holmes references I made, but apparently my quirky, I've-been-packing-five-thousand-boxes-of-books-for-the-last-72-hours sense of humor eludes us all.
(To be truthful, when I read my post from early, early this morning, not even I could rightly understand it.)
I'm moving to a pleasant suite of rooms on the upper floor of a house over in the Hawthorne area. My roommate is a kickass fellow theatre-type who travels nearly as much as I do. No, she is not an amateur detective.
And for convenience' sake, the Woman Responsible for the End of My Splendid Isolation lives just up the street. so it's all good.
So thank you, everyone, for your cheerful, touching concern that I might in fact be moving in with a crack addict.