Casting Ballots Among the Cast Iron
While I'm trying to convince myself to head out to the track tonight despite gloomy weather and a bloated belly, let me tell you about Election Day here. I've mentioned before that we don't vote in community centers, fire stations, schools or churches. We vote in our neighbor's garage.
For a couple of years, we voted in a cul de sac. Then it shifted last spring to a house up for rent. While I was there, a civic-minded couple cast their ballots and then asked if the owner was giving house tours. By the way, the FOR RENT sign was gone the next day.
This time the precinct moved to a home well known and well marked because the owners are addicted to lawn ornaments. Statues, benches, glass balls, flags, gnomes...you name it and it's out there. Here's the thing: there's no lawn. Just a few tufts of plants and a lot of rocks and dirt. I admit I'm fascinated with this house, whose inhabitants not only fail to conform to neighborhood norms but flaunt their individualism. Now, you'd think the hosts would have cleared out their garage to make way for voters, but they merely threw sheets over piles of furniture and boxes. I can only imagine what the precinct workers thought when they showed up with their cardboard booths and paper feeder this morning. Somehow they managed to wedge four booths in one corner and their card table on the other, but it was a tight squeeze. From the sounds of it, it might also be a tight race. We shall see.
POST SCRIPT: It's 30 minutes later and I'm still home with abdominal pains. I'm pretty sure it's gas, in which case I certainly don't need to 'fart around' this evening instead of putting in a quality workout.
For a couple of years, we voted in a cul de sac. Then it shifted last spring to a house up for rent. While I was there, a civic-minded couple cast their ballots and then asked if the owner was giving house tours. By the way, the FOR RENT sign was gone the next day.
This time the precinct moved to a home well known and well marked because the owners are addicted to lawn ornaments. Statues, benches, glass balls, flags, gnomes...you name it and it's out there. Here's the thing: there's no lawn. Just a few tufts of plants and a lot of rocks and dirt. I admit I'm fascinated with this house, whose inhabitants not only fail to conform to neighborhood norms but flaunt their individualism. Now, you'd think the hosts would have cleared out their garage to make way for voters, but they merely threw sheets over piles of furniture and boxes. I can only imagine what the precinct workers thought when they showed up with their cardboard booths and paper feeder this morning. Somehow they managed to wedge four booths in one corner and their card table on the other, but it was a tight squeeze. From the sounds of it, it might also be a tight race. We shall see.
POST SCRIPT: It's 30 minutes later and I'm still home with abdominal pains. I'm pretty sure it's gas, in which case I certainly don't need to 'fart around' this evening instead of putting in a quality workout.
