ere is how I am paying for this trip: 401K money.
This is a common question, maybe the one I get asked the most, and so I thought I'd clear that up. It all goes back to this conversation, between me and the accountant at the paper just prior to my leaving last spring.
"So you've got this 401K money," she says.
"How did that happen?" I ask, because I did crossword puzzles at all the financial meetings.
"Sarah, do you ever actually look at your check before putting it in the bank?"
"Sometimes. Like if I got a bonus."
"Well, you have about $7,000 in a 401K. You can pull it out now, which means you'd have to pay taxes on it, or you can roll it over into an IRA. I'd suggest you roll it over. It's the smarter thing."
"Then that's what I'll do." Of course, I don't.
The way I reason it, that money's going to better use now. When I'm old, plop me in front of Wheel of Fortune, dangle bananas in front of my face and tell me I'm in Africa. Who cares? I'll be too busy wetting myself and talking to the invisible monkeys. Besides, $7000 won't do THEN what I can do with it NOW. That's how I figure it, at least.

And I appreciate that having surprise money puts me in an enviable position, but I don't want people thinking I'm some trust fund baby or that I'm billing the trip with my Dad's credit card. Truth is, I worry about money all the time. I worry about money till I'm sick in my stomach about it. I've never been good keeping a balance with the stuff. Plus, I was hemorrhaging money up the West Coast like a Rockefeller and then by the East Coast, living like a hobo in payback. A comparison:

Example 1: The Drive-Thru Tree, Northern California
Woman: That'll be $4 please.
Sarah: For the drive-thru tree? You've gotta be kidding. Does the drive-thru tree do anything?
Woman: It's a drive-thru tree. You drive through.
Sarah: Is there anything besides a drive-thru tree?
Woman: There's a bathroom.
Sarah: Sold!

Example 2: Corner store in Bar Harbor, Maine
Woman: That'll be $2 for toothpaste.
Sarah: $2? You've gotta be kidding me.
Woman: That's what it says. $2.
Sarah: I can't afford that.
Woman: You need toothpaste.
Sarah: I'll make my own.
Woman: Can you do that?
Sarah: Guess I'll find a way.

Probably, on average, I spend about a thousand dollars a month. Some places are more expensive (Los Angeles, Alaska) and some are relatively free (staying with relatives in Michigan). I try to keep myself to $40 a day, but that's tough once you add in lodging, food, and gas, plus internet cafes and the occasional coffee or beer. That's why sleeping in the car and making my own toothpaste was so appealing. $3 a day is one big lobster feast by week's end.

So there you go. The great mystery -- how is she paying for all this? -- is solved. Next, the second most common question: What are you wearing?

written in Portland, Maine