No Freud needed

Last night, I dreamt that my car broke down. And then my back-up motorcycle also broke down. (Interestingly enough, my back-up motorcycle was an iPod model, but bygones.) I've been avoiding making a car appointment for several months now because I know something is wrong with my car. Now, I'm not an idiot, and I don't usually shy away from harsh truths, like the Saturn dude telling me how much it's going to cost, but combine what is sure to be dismal news with the closing of my Saturn of Natick dealer (oh, so conveniently located 10 minutes from work), and you've got one reluctant Jen. The next closest dealership is in Norwood! Where the hell is Norwood? Plus, it doesn't sound good. It sounds like what Endora used to call Darrin. After that scary dream (I was driving an iPod), I knew the time had come. I called up Saturn of Norwood today, and my baby car is going in. Keep your fingers crossed, people. My credit card only has so much room on it.