The big kick off party is in a few days. My time is stretched from end to end until the weekend is over... and then I'm officially home-free. Not homeless... There is such an immense difference. I'm taking a leap from a place of great security and privilege: a choice.
I feel ready to be moving again... but petrified of the cold. The next few months will be the hardest. I'll be catching the end of the rainy season along the coast down to San Francisco, and then hitting those cold desert nights when I cross the lonely stretch of Nevada in April. I am already busy developing a tightly bonded relationship with my sleeping bag. It's really very warm. Too bad I can't wear it when I ride.
Writing I guess just to indulge my insomnia. I stay awake for no reason. I could just as easily fall asleep. I'm exhausted. It's the strangeness of what's to come that keeps me fascinated. I'm enraptured with the details of my soon-to-be past life. The comforts. The ability to make popcorn at 3am.
I'm looking forward to becoming enamored with the objects of my new life. The little camp stove. My tiny tent.
It's nearly 4am. Guess it's really time to say goodbye to the day.
