Tue 7 Nov 2006
This feels unnervingly like the night before big cross-country meets in high school. You’ve trained, you’ve thought through the course, you’ve got nothing left to do but survive the next day. This is a lot different from 2004. In 2004, the extent of my political activities consisted of two beverage-oriented parties to watch TV coverage and jot results down on a markerboard. This time, I’m in the game. And I think we’ve done all we can do.
- I’ve got the coffee set up and ready to go at 5am.
- The puppy’s potty breaks have been arranged.
- I’ve got clean underpants and socks baking dry in the oven after being washed in the sink because I haven’t got time for laundry damnit.
- No, not at the same time damnit, that’d be disgusting, and not in the best interests of my underpants.
- I’ve hung the election day reminder signs in my buildings.
- Yes, I bought more at Target, but obviously not enough.
- I’ve talked to more Republicans than I’m comfortable with to explain how they can cross-ticket vote and still serve their best interests.
- Yes, I used bleach. You know, for the whites.
- I’ve given myself the old Norelco haircut in the mirror because hairstyling falls somewhere below laundry on the list of priorities. Better to show up at political parties with the funky-chunky than with a bloody ducktail.
- I’ve eaten my pasta dinner. Call it a throw-back to the cross-country days.
- Did I set up the coffee? I can’t remember. I’d better go check. I think it’s in the freezer.
