The other day I enjoyed some time socializing with a business acquaintance/friend, Ken, and his very pleasant wife. They live in a planned housing development called McCormick Ranch, out in ritzy-titzy Scottsdale: They have a nice little condo with a sweet patio verging on greenswards that make splendid hiking space.
Their apartment’s not very big — but for two retired folks, why would it need to be big? It has a nice kitchen the size and style of mine. A handsome living-room that looks out onto a pleasant, walled-in patio, perfect for loafing of an afternoon. Or morning. Or evening. Two bland but highly serviceable upstairs bedrooms/bathrooms. Handy two-car garage.
Man! I looked at that shack and thought HOT DAYUM! This is the place!!
Seriously: the main reason it struck me as “the place”is that it’s right up the road from the Mayo. My son and I were slated to visit that garden spot the following day…and a “visit” to our doc’ at the Mayo entails driving driving driving…through horrid, cut-throat traffic characterized by lunatics who never should have been allowed near a steering wheel.
The Mayo is damn near an hour’s drive from our part of town. To get there from Ken’s place would take about ten minutes. Max.
Hmmmm…
O’course, that very characteristic is what makes it UNdesirable for my son and, ultimately, for me.
Those sweet li’l condos are halfway across the globe from Dear Ex-Husband’s place — meaning my son would have to drive until his car runs out of gas to see either one of us…regardless of which part of town he was aiming at. I sure don’t want to put him in a position like that. Nor do I want to have to schlep that far to get from my place to his.
So… I guess for the moment I’m stuck here in Crime Central.
***
{sigh}
Yeah. The Funny Farm is an easy target for the…uhm…locals. On the other hand, the pore li’l locals make pretty easy targets for me…especially when they set off the burglar alarm called Ruby the Corgi.
So really: I can’t very well use the Crime Situation as an excuse to drop everything and move to Scottsdale. If my son weren’t here, I’d sure think about it seriously. But he IS here, and that creates its own set of circumstances.