Dear Mr. President,
I think if I read one more poll I will actually lose my mind. Whatever happens tomorrow is set in motion, and sadly I'm swamped with an entirely different kind of midterms. I can't read any more analysis. I can't consider any more predictions. If another Dino Rossi pop-up ad starts talking to me while I post this entry I will scream.
We're all going to get out of bed on Wednesday and go to work or school or breakfast. We will get through tomorrow and we will live with the outcome, no matter what. Or, at least, this is what I'm telling myself. Because Nate Silver might love numbers and polls and hypotheticals but he's making me crazy tonight. And the Huffington Post might be obsessed with absurd weather/natural disaster metaphors, but it won't do any good at this point. The most I can hope for tomorrow, is what my friend Ralph reminded me of earlier: that CNN has hologram people. Because an election night without hologram people on CNN is just not enough for me any more.
Seriously though, I've got essays to write and very little sleep in my near future or recent past. If any one who reads this hasn't voted yet, do so. (Also, why are you reading a political blog if you don't vote?) If you want my suggestions on who to vote for in Washington State, if you're in any way ambivalent about the Senate race, or if you actually don't care, please vote for Patty Murray. She's excellent, and Dino Rossi eats puppies and cheats on his taxes. If you're reading from out of state, I'm sorry you don't live somewhere cool enough to have mail-in elections, but don't let the weather, the lines at the polls, the annoying political ads, errands or apathy stop you from voting. Man up, America, and get out that vote.
Mr. President, I hope that we both survive our respective midterms tomorrow without too much of the suffering every one seems to be anticipating. Wednesday will come for all of us, and I think we'll probably make it there in one piece.