Here’s what I saw walking out into the parking lot after leaving this morning’s meeting:
A little bit confusing; the Beemer Z3 (middle left) that I sold to a friend was in between where I was walking, and my new car (distance, right). If I wasn’t conscious of the fact that I’d just gotten the new car, I might have walked up to the old one and tried my key in the door : )
I still think that, from a purely aesthetic point of view, the Z3 is the better-looking vehicle. It is, to my taste, just about the best looking vehicle of all; the Z4 was definitely a step down in visual design.
But the Audi TT is more comfortable. And the older I get, the more important that sort of thing can be – I’ve found that heated seats is a luxury that I like, especially on a February morning in Park City : )
But walking across the parking lot and seeing two of my cars (three, counting Ethel’s that was also parked out there) is just the least of my head-spinning these days; it’s been a very, very busy year. Mom died just over a year ago, setting in motion a year of turmoil that has not settled down yet, and may not any time soon.
Yesterday we got a low-ball offer on the one-bedroom condo at Purgatory. We countered, and they countered, but I suspect that it’s not going to go, because I’m just not willing to lose that much money on a home that I actually am very, very fond of – and a home that is always there in the back of my mind as a paid for place to live in the mountains.
That’s actually a very consistent idea; it lives in my head, somewhere around two-thirds of the way towards the back, in between “what I must accept as present reality” and “the land of rainbows and monsters that don’t really exist” – is that awareness that I have a place to live, in the mountains, at the ski hill, that is paid for. Nobody can take it away unless I sell it; vacation rentals more than cover the upkeep and taxes. If everything goes straight down the tubes, I can go there and live on very little income indeed; if the job I get involves working at the ski hill itself, then even the expense of lift tickets disappears.
So that’s a sort of Shangi-La, but it is a Shangri-La that really exists….unless I sell the condo.
Of course, I no longer have my paid-for BMW to drive there, but the Santa Fe is still in the parking lot…