Funny how stress works: it wasn’t the Mini dealer that rendered my car unusable after the yearly check up yesterday with massive brake failure last night. Nor the rental car run, torrential rain or chest cold. No — it was the raisin smushed in my slipper sole that finally caused me to lean against the sink and wail this morning.
Is it just me or are we all a little touchy right now?
I feel a collective traumatic response in everone — the stores, the street, the coffee shops. Distraction and sharpness. I have begun to turn away from the television, the radio, the newspaper. My faith in people is being tested as we head to the elections. Maybe the mechanic was listening to Fox News when he replaced my brake fluid.
As I sit and wait for the tow truck ordered by the Seattle Mini dealership I am having difficulty focusing on my work. My chair has been empty for a few days now, trying to beckon me back.
How do we get back to some sense of pride in our country and ourselves? I have no sense that whoever ends up less bloodied at the end of the November 8th Presidential elections will make me supremely happy. I just need this to be over. Having been raised in politics you will not see me make predictions, either. So what brings sunlight to this crappy run of media trolling and endless Facebook shots of Trumpkins?
You tell me. But I suspect a walk to the pie guy on Phinney and another espresso, some soothing yoga, a good movie or book reading may be the way. Self-preservation before destruction. Peace instead of danger. I am going to try removing myself from the chaos and not clicking on the updates all day long — limit reading the paper, the online sites, the running horrors under the newscasters. There doesn’t seem to be anything new. How can any more revelations, debates or exposed tapes change who those candidates are?
You know who you are voting for– just please vote.
In the meantime, I recommend the holiday pumpkin pie with candied walnuts. Or the bourbon butterscotch if you need more. And a scrubber brush for removing slipper raisins.
Meanwhile, my chair awaits.
Oh, Alex, the pictures say it all. I know that last straw (raisin) all too well. And you are so right about the collective traumatic response. Thanks for getting out the message to Vote! Big hugs to you and Olive. Pie is definitely the answer.
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