
I went to bed worried about getting up in time for my flu shot. [insert dreamy haze] While knitting an afghan, Dish watched Obama tend to his grandmother. He seemed content but worried. Suddenly, I started talking about the election, what I thought about everything. "That's fine, Ginger. You're entitled to think," he responded. "But right now, I'm taking care of my grandmother." (Sweet! He called me Ginger. That is so my fantasy stripper name.) Don't know why, but I woke up happy. I'm still conflicted, but I hope more subtle signs (not the screaming in my ear) like this lead me to a rational choice in the voting booth.
6 comments:
I hate hate. Hate is hateful.
I totally un-hate YOU!
He's only 1 year older than I.
I un-hate you too, sweetness. How lucky are we?
Thanks for your support, Dish!
Better late than never, right? It took a village.
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