Friday, December 8, 2000

 

12:05 p.m. And now, just as predicted, today will be a stronger day. I mean it. I'm doing the follow-up, the heads-up, the pick-up, the clean-up. It's all up hill, but things are looking up. Plus -- you can't beat the photo, can you? Ties everything up, nice and neat.

Yes, the TV is on, and yes, those two absentee-ballot cases have come back and the judges have blessed us with the certainty that the sanctity of the ballots has not been compromised. I'm so relieved. Whew! For a minute there, I thought there might be something wrong with this election -- but lo and behold, the TV has set me straight. That's a big relief, let me tell you.

1:10 p.m. Yippie!!!!!!!!

Did I say: strong??? Superman strong! This is a fun political moment for those of us on the Democratic side. There is suddenly a brief but furious burst of sunlight through the house (literally) and I was looking through the camera viewfinder and taking some sunlit photos when the announcement came over the TV.

Are the Republicans going to respond? Gee. Let's wait and see. Are they going to try to bully the Florida legislature putsch through?

12:16 a.m. So. We inch closer and closer to the finish line. This is the best election I've ever seen. I will try to go right to bed after posting this tiny addenda so that I'm all fresh and buggy-eyed for the recount, which will be televised.

I've done other things today -- not to worry. I've left a Windex bottle somewhere, mid-swipe. I've continued my e-book research and my printing-and-binding research. I'm looking into CD-RW burners and big nasty cutting machines and yes, even all those expensive and needlessly complicated e-commerce solutions.

It's very hard to get to the bottom line in this line of research, especially when the service provided is business-to-business and costly. It takes forever to find out that it's going to cost you a mere $30,000 per month, payable 60 days net. I always feel like a granny with a paid-off house sitting across my clean kitchen table from a sweaty guy in a thin shirt with short sleeves. And an undershirt showing through. And pens in his pocket. Company ball-points. He'll leave one behind and I'll feel lucky for a brief second, and then I'll put it in the Maxwell House can with all the other pens and pencils and I'll forget about it until I have to make a market list and I reach for it and -- wouldn't you know it? It's all dried up.

Not so lucky, I guess.