This morning I'd really like to listen to Madonna. Bedtime Stories, specifically. On the way to work and maybe before the phones start ringing. But I don't have enough time to dig the cd out from wherever it hides and load it on to my ipod. And John has a job now, he's getting ready to leave so there's not enough time for that. There's not enough time for this, I wanted to get to work early and circumvent the kid who works with me and rides my bus because I hate awkward early morning conversation -- just let me walk to work in peace, at least he doesn't make me talk to him while I'm on the bus, I appreciate this bus because there is NO ONE ON IT and now here you are, go ride your damn bike -- but I'm not going to get to work early, I'm going to miss the early bus and anyway I still need to collect some foods I can eat for lunch

In the endless quest of searching for diners I wish there was a place in between here and work, a place with a counter where I can eat a hasty breakfast while sitting next to a man who wears a flannel shirt, who is reading the newspaper, who takes his coffee with a Coke or some other quirk