Tomorrow It Ends

After tomorrow, (in theory), the robocalls and other assorted political annoyances will stop for a while.

I don't know about you, but I sure am ready.

Yesterday an already contentious election season turned plumb ugly. Due to certain circumstances, which I will be nice and not discuss here, I missed my morning off. Thus I wasn't the chirpiest bird in the flock when I came in from chores.

However, I did such computer things as my messed up computer would permit, sat down in my Sunday Chair, and fell asleep, while reading a wonderfully mindless book. I was dreaming peacefully...pleasantly....ahhhh....can we say bliss? (Visions of Bejeweled Blitz danced in my head....and I was winning too.)

BRINNNGGGGGGGG...the telephone rang. My heart changed gears in less than a breath and began to pound like Bill Kreutzman's drums.

It was for the boss who was also nodding happily in his chair, enjoying Sunday football (entirely ignored by me, thanks to my Peltor ear muffs, which are real marriage savers, thank you NYCAHM.)

Becky grabbed the phone and carried it in to him. He answered...and it was an individual stumping for Susan Savage, for whom we weren't all that likely to vote in the first place. He was outraged and let the caller understand that in no uncertain terms. Sunday for Pete's sake! The closest thing to a day of rest that we are going to get and certainly not the right time for political harassment! (It is a shame that you can't slam down a portable phone). Neither of us managed to fall back into dream land. He went out to mow some hay and I waited for my heart to resume its normal sluggish Sunday rhythm and resumed perusal of my novel.

*****We interrupt this blog post to interject the darned near unbelievable. I was proof-reading through the above making sure it read as smoothly as I wanted it to, when the phone rang. Believe it or not it was someone ELSE from the Susan Savage campaign. It was nice to talk to a real, live person so I could tell her just how happy we were to be awakened from our Sunday snooze yesterday. ARGGHHHHH

Ah, I feel better now, except for the sky-rocketing blood pressure....those calls work just like a gallon of coffee or a four pack of AMP and so much cheaper too. Of course we do not nap on Mondays, but dang!

I am so ready to stomp down to town and vote on those lousy new voting machines tomorrow, confident that by Wednesday the ringing of the phone will announce one of our itinerant children or a beloved mother or brother or good friend, not some soulless creep from some political campaign.