The Budget truck is all packed up and I’m ready to move. We were awoken at 7:30 in the morning to the sound of pavement being pummeled and jackhammered outside on the street. Looks like the city might actually be fixing some pavement! Amazing. Of course, right as I leave. The weather is also abnormally cold and drizzly here in San Diego, as if letting us know that it is indeed time to go. No more sunny days and long walks.
And it really is time to go. I feel like I’ve been undergoing some deep sea changes as of late, and the surface manifestations are just beginning to ripple. Finally, belatedly, almost at 30, I am almost an adult. I’ve spent most of my life coasting along with the way the wind takes me, and settling down into stagnancy when nothing moves, and now, after many tentative forays and excursions, I’m stepping out on my own, with absolutely nothing in sight but what I make mine. I foresee that for a time things will be pretty difficult in certain terms, such as still living under someone else’s roof, and it’s going to take time to find a new job, and it’s going to take time to get used to a completely new world, etc. But all that just seems exciting to me, because at least it’s a challenge to work that much harder to find my place, as opposed to simply waiting for things to come my way.
Also auspicious for this date of departure is that I had a dream last night that Rihanna had a crush on me. Which is funny given that I don’t even know what she looks like. But it’s still a nice feeling to wake up and know that someone out there who can sing so well about umbrellas might cherish me in an alternate universe.
So on the itinerary for hoy: out the I-8 to Phoenix, wherein my Aunt Ruth dwells. For breakfast we’re consuming the remnants of the excellent spicy Indian dinner from last night (thanks Karen!). That should provide for some later entertainment on the road in the cab with Vinnie the parrot wedged in between our seats, most likely freaking out and getting traumatized.
Off the agenda for tomorrow is the Grand Canyon, alas. We realized that leaving the parrot in the car when it’s 90+ degrees outside, even for just a minute to take a peep, probably isn’t a nice thing to do. So it’s pretty much just directamente out the I-40, heralding spring and new becomings along the way.