I like what I like.
I like how Ralph Waldo Emerson thinks.
Romero Britto’s art makes me giddy.
I can’t get enough of Edward Hopper’s America.
Thoreau speaks to my soul.
I have one delightful perfect round black purse that I love and have worn every day for over three years and sometimes (often) hug like a small pillow (too precious to picture here).
I loved my 2014 VW Passat every single minute that I owned it.
I loved every bit about how it drove.
I loved all of how it looked.
I loved how it felt the right size for me, like Cinderella finally putting on a shoe that fit.
I loved the black and white tuxedo leather seats that reminded me of chocolate eclairs.
I loved that I could drive from Tallahassee to Fort Lauderdale without stopping a single time, but that wasn’t as important as the other stuff.
But when it came out that VW did something wrong and had to either buy back or fix a bunch of cars, I got in line to sell my poor gorgeous perfect car.
I have been filling out paperwork, submitting more documents and then faxing notarized whatever and printing this then clicking on that to do the other thing since last October.
Today I brought my beautiful perfect Passat in and went home with a check.
I knew no other car could replace this car, so I thought about getting a Hyundai Sonata. I drove one about two years ago and I loved the seat coolers. Everything about it was cool, but the seat coolers are still calling to me in 2017. On top of all of that, our South Korean friends could use the support, right? RIGHT?
Nothing on the VW lot looked good to me.
Nope to silver cars.
Nope to Volvos.
Nope to Bugs.
Nope to bright blue too sporty cars that didn't have the posh things like push button starters and doors that unlocked because they literally loved me so much they knew I was coming (or whatever, don't pop my bubble).
Just as I’m leaving the VW lot, fully intent on going home carless and researching cars and also maybe finally figuring out how Uber works, I feel a strange pull and pop across my chest.
Before I can understand what has happened my hands instinctively catch my no-longer perfect wonderful security blanket of a purse before it hits the ground.
A tiny baby voice in my head does this thing that is the opposite of prayer and goes like NO WAY, no sir, please do NOT make me give up my best friend purse AND my most favorite beloved gorgeous car within hours, this is unfair, this is too much to BEAR....
As I juggle my poor overworked perfect lovely broken purse I see something in the corner of my eye.
I point at a car I had seen before but because it had a strange tag across the window I assumed it was already sold.
What about that one? Why is it in time out?
It was for sale, and it turned out to be newer, cheaper, prettier and posher than my old car, and I’m getting it because clearly it was there waiting for me, conspiring with my purse to have this exact moment.
This universe is a pretty great place.
