Brief respite of normal

I've landed in Scottsdale for a couple weeks to serve as the beck-and-call girl for the little dog called Maddie. I'm looking forward to getting some important work done on this visit between feeding the bottomless pit and scooping poop. A little writing, some car stuff, but mainly sleeping. I am appreciating indoor plumbing and fast wifi. On the downside, I'm at the beck and call of a dog with four hollow paws and a delusion that she works for Homeland Security.

On Wednesday I drove Maddie's pet parents to the airport in their Tesla. Yep. I can now claim I have driven a Tesla. One moment I'm homeless, the next I'm driving a . . . well, I'm still homeless, no matter what moment it is. I try not to use the term homeless. I prefer nomad for now. Nomad hints at the potential for adventure that lies around literally every curve in the road, snakes notwithstanding. I'm taking the curves and corners and snakes as they come as I explore the state of Arizona.

Meanwhile, the summer heat is beginning to ramp up. I don't think it's hit triple digits yet here, but it's close. Soon this place will be unlivable for nomads who can't escape the sun. The dry heat saps the moisture from my cells and leaves me listless and weak. On the upside, the repaired backyard pool is a glowing sapphire gem surrounded by blazing hot concrete, inviting me to get lost in the depths while I develop a case of melanoma. 

This dogsit gig is a metaphorical ledge in my nomad free fall. I know it's a short respite. I'll be back in July, but I'm planning what comes in June with a mixture of fear and anticipation. It's all about elevation, people. Soon, I must go up. I admit to feeling some reluctance. Even after just a few days, I'm taking electricity and running water for granted. Those things seem so normal, until you don't have them.