First off, let's listen to some Sufjan Stevens covering Tim Buckley:
That song is how this morning feels, which is a good thing.
But back to last night . . .
I got off work and drove straight to the car-repair place to figure out what was going on with my brakes. They had been making this little grinding sound in the very, very, very last second of stopping for the last day and a half. I thought maybe at the most it would cost me a couple hundred dollars. After waiting for a while, talking with the guy at the desk about being Star Wars nerds, they took me back to see Penelope (my green Mazada Millenia) who was hoisted up into the air with all her wheels taken off. They told me lots of things I didn't understand. They told me one thing I did understand: it would cost $1200.00 to repair. I told them that was an impossibility. I'm 25. I'm an artist. I don't have that much money. They put the wheels back on, I paid them for the inspection, and called my ever-faithful mother to pick me up because I was scared to drive it home.
Thankfully, I got to spend lots of the evening outside, under the sky, among the trees, talking about the moon in the crisp air. That helped me to feel more at ease with the brake situation. I texted my best friend, Bethany, to see if I could get a ride to work with her the next morning (we work at the same publishing company). She said it was fine, so I had a ride for today, which was comforting. When I got home, my dad said he could fix my car! And for really cheap!
I went to sleep happy. I woke up happy. I continue to be happy.
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Started reading The Fountainhead on Monday after I finished Still Life. I have a bachelor's degree in reading, after all.
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