I came to realize today that there is something seriously wrong with me.  "Blapples."  It set me off.  One word and I almost peed my pants.  Granted, I was watching a movie and it was funny, but I could not stop laughing.  As tears streamed down my face and my husband slowly backed away from me, I recognized that I've lost it.

While I was well on my way before the election and economic meltdown, the scale has been tipped - and not in my favor.

I'm supposed to be doing a re-write.  But, I can't focus.  "Sure", I tell him, "I'm working on it right now."  They must think I'm the slowest writer on the planet.  It's a true story, so it has to be right.  I MUST do right by this man.  He trusted me and I am honored.  Fucking Larry Craig getting caught in the bathroom!  Now I have to change even more names.  He's not even a bad guy.  I'm out of names to give him.  Mister Bator?  See?  Do you SEE?  I'm cracking. 

The title work on the new ranch is supposed to be done this week.  Will we actually close this thing?  I should pack a box.  I should get that Pickens book back out of the box I packed yesterday.  All my research is in storage.  If it's two weeks, I can wait.  If it's four, can I?  It's probably in the back.  I know it's in the back.

All I can do - all day long - is search for news.  The TV's on.  I'm online.  I can't get enough.  I want to hear something, anything new.  I'm excited and mostly horrified when I find the latest.  Only 9 more days.  I'm on the edge of my seat.  What will the antagonist do today?  I'm a junkie - the Skid Row kind - and I need my fix.  Any form of fodder I can find.  I'm, frankly, in-love with Keith Olbermann, even when I feel like he's yelling at me. 

I can't sleep.  I KNOW that I am witnessing history in the making.  I KNOW that my one little vote does matter.  I will be able to tell my grandchildren someday that I was a part of it.  Hopefully by then it won't even matter.  The people will speak and I am one of them.  There isn't indifference this year. 

The scandals.  The name-calling.  The utter bullshit.  The lowest depths that people will sink - even when there's a national spotlight.  Please let it be over.  But, then what do I do?  I don't think I can do it cold-turkey.  I've got the shakes just thinking about it.  Sarah Palin must run in 2012 - or at the very least get that show everyone's talking about. 

I'm wound up tight.  I'm sure that the six Coke Zeroes and half a pack of cigs I've already had have nothing to do with it.  Must Write.  Can't.  Palin...fear...voter suppression...terrorist...market...Obama...Socialism...

I will be ecstatic when the election is over and perhaps a new day and age is upon us.  Hope.  Change.  But, I fear, I will also be depressed with nothing to feed me.  Is there such a thing as Post-Election Depression?  Am I trivializing this election?  Using it to distract me from my bank account and my writing?  It makes me feel sick.   

Blapples.