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The endless attack ads are over ( hope) and soon the counting will begin.

My "plan" for voting (take chair and something to read with me) was all for naught. The noon news had some clips about women who had gotten in line about an hour before the polls opened (which is 6 AM) and were prepared for a wait, with chairs, food, bottles of water, and (maybe?) reading material.

I got to my polling place a bit after noon, managed to find a parking place quite close to the entrance, looked over and saw lines, so I grabbed my chair and my "crip card" and headed towards the line. The woman monitoring the line wanted to know what precinct I was in, and when she heard which one she told me to go right on in.

No line at all at my precinct. It pays to not live in a subdivision, but in an area where most lots are an acre or more.

WAAAY different from the 1966 election, a couple of weeks after YD was born. The line c r e p t at the pace of an anesthetized snail. Nobody offered a chair or anything, and I had not yet developed the assertiveness to demand one.

So, I did my civic thing, then had lunch at Arby's.

Stopped at PJ's on the way back to read some more in the Laurie King book, and gave away a pair of old shoes.

Huh???

Well, the "barista" had on rubber flip-flops and the thong on one broke. I was pretty sure I had a pair in the car. (When you work in a flood-prone area you carry weird things in your car. And when you have had kids--and been a Girl Scout leader--you are even more likely to have what some might call a junk-filled car.)

I didn't have rubber flip-flops, but I had a pair of old "emergency" sandals. Even though I figured the elastic back was probably shot, I thought she could use them as flip-flops. It wasn't, and they fit her perfectly.

Now I need to toss another pair of emergency shoes in my car.

While I was at PJ's I got a call that my old fridge will get picked up tomorrow. That means I won't be going in to work tomorrow, and THAT means I don't have to get to bed at an hour compatible with a 5 AM alarm clock.

So I can watch the evening's goings-on. And maybe be relieved or depressed by the time I go to bed.

No little "gifts" today from my girls. I'm just waiting till CC gets a trophy. Lady was an outside cat hanging around the shelter till they caught her, so she no doubt has had previous hunting practice. CC had been there since kittenhood. (The cats were 16 and 14 months old respectively when I adopted them, so they'd been there for a while.)

And now it's on to listening to all the newscasters try to be first on declaring a winner.