I was supposed to get up at 5 am yesterday morning. If I got up at 5, I could leave at 6, be in Kent by 6:30, and on the 6:48 train.

Unfortunately, I went to bed a little late on Thursday, and as I dragged my ass out of bed for an abbreviated morning routine, I realized I was not going to make that first train. Shower, make bed, put on clothes, search for exactly the right black shirt to go with my button-down jeans. I did spend the extra three minutes to put on lipstick and brush my eyebrows, which were all wonky from sleep. I watched the full moon through my bathroom window as I was showering, waking some quiet longings in the silence broken only by the rush of water.

Out the door at 6:12. I'm starving. Nothing at home was both soft and fast, so I stop at McDonalds for breakfast. I opt for coffee, fully leaded, with my grease. I know I'm not going to make it through this morning without it.

Down to Kent. I see the train go by as I'm sitting in traffic. There's another train in half an hour, so I don't sweat it. I park my car in the park and ride garage, walk over to the platform, and sit in the morning sun reading my book. I read three or four chapters and more people file onto the platform; and then comes the howl of a train in the distance--7:17. 7:18, and it pulls into the station and the doors open. I settle into a seat across from a man playing a game on a Palm. I read my book, let the swaying of the train lull my thoughts, close my eyes and disappear into my inner world. I could do this every morning, I think. Well, except for the driving down to Kent bit. But the train, I could do.

When we stop in Seattle, the conductor says, "This is our last stop, we'll see you this afternoon. It's Friday!"

The waterfront streetcar has horrible connections with the Sounder, so I elect to walk down the waterfront to work. The air has September's chill in it already. I walk through Pioneer Square, looking at the ivied walls, lusting in my heart as I walk by Eliott Bay Books. I get to the waterfront, turn right, and walk up the front.

Pier 47, 51, 55. I walk strongly, swinging my arms. It's nice to be out for a walk. The remnants of my headache have evaporated. I walk by Starbucks, resist the siren smell of more coffee, and take the elevator up to my building. I've made it here in less time than it would have taken to wait for and ride the streetcar.

I slide into my seat. 8:15. Time to get started on work.

Today was cleaning and errand day. It was going to be warm, so I ran my errands that required the car first, dropping off a cat carrier for Misha, getting the car washed, going to the bank. When I got home, I cleaned out the car, removing all of my personal stuff from it, getting it read to go.

My heart is in my throat and has been for a week, ever since I got approval for a loan and the prospect of a new car became immanent.

I've been having problems with Desdemona. She's aging, and not gracefully--I've replaced the alternator, the battery, three motor mounts, more hoses than I care to remember, an oil valve, and the transmission pan gasket in the last three years. She requires babying in the morning, when she's cold, or else she'll shudder and die on the way up the hill. She has a weird clanging noise that three undercarriage inspections have failed to locate the source of. She groans dramatically when anyone gets in or out of her. She is difficult to park in tight spots.

So, new car.

I dislike spending large amounts of money. I hate dickering. Car shopping combines the worst of both worlds. I'm terrified of the process, and only the reassuring presence of a friend who is good at negotiation has allowed me to sleep for the past week. I do know exactly what I want and about how much I want to pay for it, which is a plus, as is the fact that I have my own financing already arranged. (I'm basically a dream customer for the end of the month for a dealership. If they have what I want and they're willing to give me the price I want, I'll be out of their hair in half an hour and they'll be one car closer to their quota.)

So, tomorrow, armed with paper and a goal, I am going to go attempt to purchase a car.

We'll see what happens.

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