I like the times when I come out from inside my head to a technicolor world animated with figures and things I have no connection to, and I can move among them as though unseen or I can interact in some minimal way to hear with surprise the sound of my voice and the power it has to effect some action or thing in however small measure.

Since the clean install on the laptop last week, I’ve not wanted to do anything but tinker with the machine, play games newly installed — The Sims, Civ III — or update my Web sites. I’m lost there, not for hours but days through nights. I’m tired but can’t sleep in the noise the ideas make.

This kind of distraction contrives contentment. I don’t feel anything but the excitement of the puzzle, which I am simultaneously making and solving.

(Part of me wants to perform the install again to learn what I didn’t catch the first time. As competent as I like to believe I am with computers, the task was completed with much of Andrew’s help, his network and generous disk space. While I would’ve figured most all of it out on my own, a few small hitches would’ve held me up for hours or days without his experience at hand.)

Consequently, I hardly feel like looking for work. I only want to keep dreaming up new things to do on this machine.

Nevertheless, a large bureaucratic company is sending me a manuscript to edit in the next four or five weeks. If the editing goes well, it could be the end of the job search. The company pays well and the account executive reports that she keeps her freelancers busy.

It’s not a certain thing. So, I’m still looking — or not caring, as it seems this week.

Otherwise, today is day four managing my apartment building. Small labors make permanently affordable rent. This morning, when most of the tenants were out working, I vacuumed the halls and changed a light bulb. This was easy, gratifying work. I like the satisfaction of concrete accomplishment and, surprisingly, of tidying the whole building.