@Lordyaswas,
Laughing, so not a hippie, quite.
What you remember was some time later, when I moved, sadly, in late 2008. If I ever screamed it was when I drove from my house in Venice away, on Lincoln Boulevard (oh, god) and landed at a friends apartment who served me platitudes before I drove north.. She happened to be a recently certified psychologist, but I knew her before all that.
She had no idea of the depth of my loss - but, remembering, she also had that stuff happen, shorter time, hers a year, mine 25. But on that afternoon, she was a stranger mouthing stuff.
I was better as I drove. California cure - my california, not some fictive.
So, the first place I landed at by virtue of a very involved real estate agent, was a four bedroom ugly ass house (I am judgemental), that had the benefit of a small sequoia grove on the property and a place next door that had deer milling.
I filled in some of my stuff, hung some paintings, listened to opera, filled kitchen cabinets, and then a phone call.
The couple who showed up bought the house, and I had barely unloaded, most stuff in garage. That house had been on sale for three years.
It worked out that the buyer would rent me his house for little, and that is where I stayed - he's the one who collected stuff. I'm not sure he was wrong on all that - and one of those items was the zztop thing. That was nothing in comparison to the shaving cream cans and so on..
Meantime I know that man as, however quirky, rather dear to me.
Made me smile too!