Fear is having your "check engine" light come on and then being told that your car does not have a mileage-based maintenance indicator.

Relief is being told that your air intake temperature valve (or something with an equally convoluted name) is broken but is covered under the warranty.  I get to keep driving and wait patiently for the blessed day when the part might arrive and the pesky orange check engine light may be dim once more.

I park in a garage that is caddy-corner from the building where I work.  Many spots in said garage are designated  for a "Compact Car Only."  I have often witnessed idiotic Tahoes and vehicles of similar girth rudely shoving themselves into these spaces.  Whatevs, it's nothing new.  I mean, I didn't claim tiny spots when I was driving a substantial '91 Buick Century, but I am a rule follower... generally. 

Yesterday, I walked up to my compact car in the line of compact car spaces.  To my left was another small vehicle - not at all in the wrong for parking where it did.  However, it was definately at fault for parking insanely close to my wee Kia.  There was plenty of space on its left but I (a relatively slim girl) could not find enough room between my open door snugly skimming the side of my illiy and door frame in which to squeeze myself.  Blue-grey compact car, you are lame. 

Honestly though, I really found this situation to be more exciting than it was frustrating.  I had to climb in from the passenger side and ever-so-carefully manuever myself over the gear shift to the driver's seat!  I felt like a spy!

Except for the fact that it wasn't so exciting.  The car that wasoff.  There is no need to move gingerly around the very sturdy gear shift.  I guess my daily routine is so extremely convenient that having to make one inconvenient adjustment was a tiny bit thrilling - which I suppose speaks to the fact that I could afford to factor a bit more adventure into my life.  

Tomorrow's excitement: Yoga with a lanky dude friend who doesn't seem like the yoga type.  Also (this is the crazy part) our dryer is broken, so I think... I'm going to use a laudromat! woot! Who knows what kind of exciting characters I will encounter in such a setting!  The laundromat - one of the great melting-pots of our great land.  Oh man. Me, my book about 19th century Chilean-Americans, and the rhythmic purr of laundering.  You are so jealous.

How 'bout that primary?!

Obama 55.4%

Clinton 26.5%

Edwards 17.6%

I don't know about you lot, but this palmetto state native and member of the Obama Children's Crusade is pretty stoked.

When my hair does things like it's doing today - being extremely smooth and well behaved,
I am almost surprised that people aren't running at me with hands outstretched, 
hoping to cop a feel of my luscious locks. 

Almost.

I guess that kind of attention would get a little cumbersome eventually.

What I'd really like is just to have someone in the passenger seat of my car. Someone to laugh at me and occasionally grab my hand for emphasis when telling a good story. 
I spent a lot of time in my car alone this weekend. It wears on a girl. The first 8-hour stretch of solitude was kind of fun - full of expectation, knowing that I had a handful of my closest family waiting for me at the end. But the way back was a little rough.  I ran out of audio entertainment and experienced stretches of highway where no stations are picked up on the fm dial. I made it without any true acts of insanity.  A companion could have taken a turn driving.  That would have really helped the ol' lower back region.