Road Trip to My Mothers House To Drop Off My Junk

Wow. Wow, wow, wow.

So, when you get older, you notice slight changes in your appearance.

When you’re a teenager/early 20s, you look pretty good in most lightning, slouchy pants and hair in a “whatever” bun is acceptable, and make up can be sparse. Youth hides other imperfections, cuz frankly you’re just a kid trying to figure it out. You experiment, sure, but you mostly come out unscathed and youthful as ever.

But MAN. When you’re 29 and trying to drive 12 hour days to get to Southern California from Seattle, mirrors are a reflection of your worst self. Sure I may have had my life packed up in my car, but DUDES, the BAGGAGE under my eyes was unreal. I saw layers. Multiple miniature rolls of tiredness cascading down my eyes. Darkness in the creases. Weird tiny pimples from sitting-in-the-car grease and exposure-to-the-sun, and who can forget over-eating-too-many-hot-Cheetos-to-keep-awake?

Anyway, as the sign says in California somewhere that I unsafely took a picture of says:


Usually my road trips are filled with pleasurable pit stops and Oreo Mcflurries. But, alas, this was a business road trip filled with business things. I bought a book on tape talking about getting rid of fear while living a creative life (yes, I know, shut up), I woke up with the sun and drank coffee out of a tiny paper cup. I even put a little eyeliner on to distract myself from the rippling dark waves that have made their ways to under my eyes.

On a side note, my mother surprised me at the Sacramento airport and helped me drive the rest of the way home. Thanks, mom! You’re my biggest fan!

The strangest part of all of this is extreme RELENTLESS certainty that I’m making the right decision about moving to Hamburg. Driving out of Seattle, I said my goodbyes with such directness and grace that is extremely rare for a person of my anxious past.

So much is my resoluteness, this really awesome email exchange with my landlord only ruffled my feathers for a couple of minutes.

“SARAH YOU LEFT THE APARTMENT A MESS. I just spent 4 hours cleaning it. You really should call me.”


Anyway, after a brief exchange, he’s giving me half of my deposit back. Keep in mind, I lived in a 280 square foot shoebox. How much damage could I have possibly done to warrant a 4 hour cleaning spree? Plus, if he already cleaned it, he’s just wants me to call so he can yell at me further? I’m already a hot mess, “TOM” I think we can call it good. Hugs and Kisses!!!!XOXOOXOO

One time, when he didn’t think anyone was looking, I watched him text furiously to someone in his car. I think he does this whole “you’re not getting your full deposit back” on the regular.

No matter, friends. I’m going to Germany. DID YOU GET THE MEMO YET?

Today I spent the day at the UCR botanical gardens with my family. Here’s a series of pictures to warm all of our hearts.

After two days of sleeping and sunshine, and wearing shorts for the first time in probably a year, I think I’m on the upswing, finally.

Auf Wiedersehen (I had to google translate this even after 3 weeks of Duolingo practice on my phone, sigh.)





Road Trip to My Mothers House To Drop Off My Junk

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