I woke up on election day wide awake, thinking “I get to vote!” Normally I laze about as long as possible, cramming a pillow over my head to drown out the little creatures and their pesky whining for food. Learn to work a can opener. Bootstraps and all. But damn, do I love voting. All the ballot questions even went my way for a change. I love paying taxes, love pot, and hate people with jobs. My sister hates the schools, but her question lost. Have fun with the slaaaaaahts.

Yesterday, I woke up, and my first thought was “Barack Obama is going to be the president.” What an amazing feeling. Whenever something went wrong, and many things did go wrong yesterday, I thought of that.

I took the whinier of the two little creatures out to buy newspapers, and there was not a single Times to be found in my town. They don’t hold with fancy walking around here. These sidewalks are for regular walking. I got one Boston Globe, the local rag, and a Boston Herald (headline: “O baby”). Keep it classy, world.

Then I was struck down with a pestilence. Either that or my body is purging the last eight years like one of those “as seen on TV” cleanses. I got verklempt during the speeches on election night, of course, but everything did not really hit me until I found myself bawling in the shower yesterday morning. This arresting image popped into my head, and all was lost. Maybe it’s only arresting if you have a small human of the same age, but surely you can project a bit.

I ended up with a full-blown migraine, even making good on the vomitola. I lurch and spew for you! I spent the rest of the day and night draped over various soft surfaces, moaning and swatting away the child trying to climb on me. There was sitcom-style drama with Mr. H attempting to bring an ex-girlfriend home for dinner. Nothing against her, I’d just prefer not to be encrusted in my own filth when I host! Called a friend in Virginia to hear tales of “I thought it was called the WHITE house, hur hur hur,” from her co-workers. Some say the best way to diffuse a racist joke is to play dumb, so I don’t get it. What does that mean? Can you be more specific? I’m sorry, I still don’t understand. Why is that funny?

Anyway, my head still hurts today, and I seem to have blown through all the expired vicodin. Maybe the pain is something to do with those 55 million folks who thought it would be OK to have Sarah Palin next in line to run the country. Maybe I am channeling the angst of people thrown in jail indefinitely without a trial. I nunno!

Also: WTF, California, Arkansas, Arizona, and Florida. Especially Arkansas, actually. We get to hear all this pap about how gay couples can enjoy all the same legal rights as a married couple with a little finagling, but now they can’t adopt children?
At least Connecticut gets a pat on the back for dissing Question 1, plus chasing the last Republican in Congress out of New England. Lotta work to do out there. I’ll be the one in dark glasses, whimpering softly.