Ah, election season is finally, thankfully, almost over. Although it seems determined to go out with a bang; not only did I get four phone calls last night about voting (including a thoughtful one from Michelle Obama, I feel very important right now), but I also got totally screwed at the polling place. Here, they divvy up the names A-G, H-N, P-Z. And evidently, 90 percent of the county's population--including me--falls under the first category. It's strange, really. But the A-G line snaked out the door while the others waltzed in and out like the breeze. So yes... 30 minute in, we were giving P-Z in particular some dirty looks. I finally voted after 45 minutes; the girl behind me (an M) confessed that she'd been there for less than 15. The vagaries of fate. Or surnames, I suppose.
Regarding the election, I'm afraid to get my hopes up--and even then, it's more of a case of "(almost) anybody but him"--but I am planning watch The Daily Show's coverage for some entertainment value, at least.
But I really hate those frickin' Zs.