Yesterday was a lovely, leisurely day, despite being unnaturally hot. But I do not feel like writing about it, so I will look elsewhere for something to inspire my fingers to express themselves. Damn! I cannot ignore the impact yesterday is having on my thinking this morning, so I’ll have to accept that experience molds thought. So, let it begin.
Although my fascination with a motorized, drivable RV had returned, my certainty of my mental choices had not. So, when I rode in the quiet comfort of a four-year-old Honda Odyssey van (with only 15,000 miles on its odometer), my mind took advantage of the opening to think again about the practicality of getting an RV. The cons began to outweigh the pros: costs of storage; gas mileage; unwieldiness in traffic; costs of insurance; need for modes of supplemental transportation; etc., etc., etc. The reason those thoughts entered my mind can be traced directly to the four-year-old Honda Odyssey. It felt comfortable. Its space behind the front driver’s/passenger’s seats could be used for sleeping in a pinch (and in not so much of a pinch). The Honda seemed designed with long road-trips in mind. Whereas the Subaru in my garage seems designed for moderately comfortable treks through an off-road trail in a National forest. Not uncomfortable, but not the lap of luxury, either.
Okay, I’ll get to it. Maybe driving a comfortable vehicle for travel, along with sleeping in motels, would be more appealing and more practical than driving around in one’s bedroom/kitchen/living quarters combo. Maybe, if the “camping” bug struck, staying in a cabin in a KOA campground might scratch the itch in a more practical and considerably less expensive way than going all in for a fancy RV. So, here’s what I am thinking about today: replacing the Subaru with a somewhat luxurious minivan vehicle like a Honda Odyssey or a Toyota Sienna. The minivan would be a more comfortable road car than the Subaru. The cost savings from not having to park it in an expensive storage shed might offset the cost of staying in motel rooms while road-tripping across the USA. I’m a target for a mark; this conversation is swaying me in the direction of the minivan and away from the RV. I’m easy. I can trade my principles for a night in paradise…sort of.
We’ll see. I may get over this sudden appreciation for minivans. Or I may not. Probably not. I may decide the old paid-in-full Subaru represents the lap of luxury. I may simply need something new and different and completely unconnected to my past.
I can barely keep my eyes open. I’ve drifted off several times as I sit in front of the keyboard. This is not the normal me. Nor is the blood in my urine normal. Fortunately, I have an appointment with a urologist about a week and a half from now. Not that a urologist is apt to address this morning’s narcolepsy. My IC suggests I have a sleep study done to address the oddities associated with my patterns of sleep (and lack thereof). I just woke up again.
My state of mind and the state of my body’s reaction to the world around it seem strange this morning. As if I’m in an alternate universe, one created by blending alcohol with mind-altering drugs to form a fabric heretofore unknown by humankind. A fabric that Leonard Cohen might say was woven from “smoke and gold and breathing.” I love those old Leonard Cohen songs; the one from which I quoted is called “Winter Lady,” I think. “Traveling lady, stay awhile, until the night is over. I know I’m just a station on your way, I know I’m not your lover.” Ah, the old days. The days when everything was a beautiful mystery to be unraveled and then carefully stored in a box hand-crafted from love and wax and wood and truth. Oh, for those old days when life was eternal and illness belonged in story books with lessons laced with compassion. Craziness is the last refuge in a world gone mad. There’s nothing funny about insanity, really. Except insanity might dull the pain of sanity mixed with raw reality.
Enough madness. More later. Maybe. Perhaps. But probably not.