It’s difficult to write about yesterday’s horrifying election results. So I’m not going to. But I do feel like such a debacle should be acknowledged, at least.
My friend Susan and I drank the mini bottles of champagne I brought over last night out of anxiety instead of celebration. It seemed fitting they were screw-tops, not the kind with corks holding back a flood of festive bubbles.
Today I drove out to Gresham to do some gardening. On the way home I got trapped in rush hour traffic and inched forward blasting a mix tape I made for my friend Mary Kate sixteen years ago, just after the whole Y2K thing. She gave it back to me recently since I’m the one who has a tape deck. By the time I reached SE Portland I’d listened to the entire cassette and the LOW FUEL light had been on for several miles.
What is next, I wonder and wonder.