Super Tuesday

Well, I'm just back from the polls, where, in order to vote for who I hope will be the Democratic candidate, I had to fight to overcome my performance anxiety about writing in front of other people. I filled out my voter registration card and was signing it when another person appeared in front of me. So that set me off; then I had to present my voter registration card to another woman, and I had to sign my name again against the town resident list . . . I know you can't understand this, but this was really stressful. I have coping mechanisms, like putting my enormous handbag between me and the person, but still.

I took my registration card to yet another person, who took it this time, asked me, "Democrat or Republican?" and handed me a ballot after I answered.

I took my ballot to the shielded nook at the long folding table, and shakily blackened the dot for Barack, signed my name (shakily; why? I was alone; built-up stress that comes from these kinds of institutional places, too, but that's a whole other story) on a detachable stub on the top, and brought it up to the little old guy who had me push my ballot into an electronic box that whooshed it inside. Then I had to put the signed stub with my signature into a cardboard box.

Phew. I only hope that this makes some kind of difference. And, believe me, if I can go out and vote, you can too.