(Not) Vacationing in San Francisco

I'm not in San Francisco on a vacation. I've moved here. I have a job here. I will, eventually, have a place to call home here. But my mind is having a hard time understanding this. It's 3pm and I'm wearing a light sweater. What the hell.

I'm spending tonight in one hostel, next week in another. I sent 20 or so emails to people looking for a tenant last night. I'm going to do that for many more days. Mr. sent me a carefully curated list of possible homes with an email template I can use to make the process faster and less stressful. I'm not anxious anymore.

Two nights ago, my last night in Phoenix, I was anxiously packing and repacking what I really wanted to take with me on this non-vacation. I was anxious that I haven't yet signed a lease. Bianca reminded me that I've spent much, much longer in entirely different countries with much, much less with me and I've been fine. This would be no different. Just a long vacation.

This morning, I carefully sketched a tiny map--how to get from the Powell station to my hostel; how to know when I've gone too far. Mr. laughed and reminded me that my phone can also do that. Oh right. I'm not in another country. I'm not on vacation.

But I did find an old church to hang out in front of all afternoon. Maybe a little on vacation.

Post-Anesthesia Doodles

I was under general anesthesia for an hour while I had my wisdom teeth removed today.

According to my mom, I demanded for my notebook and a marker as soon as I got out of surgery. I don't remember drawing anything, but I filled up half a notebook. Here are some of the things I drew:

It started with a few self-portraits

and a grocery... list..?

There were also some doodles where the monster became a personified depression monster that was preying on my family. Warrior Grishma was fighting it in a few pictures. There was a cupcake. And a robot.

Huh.

Did you have any loopy experiences while you were coming off anesthesia?