So in another extension of magical thinking, I've been very careful not to get excited or believe Obama was going to win at ANY point in the election. 'Cuz, you know, I believed in my fellow Americans in 2000. And 2004. And Arnold.
Last night I put myself to bed, only half a celebratory beer in my belly. Ask my roommate. I was grumpy. "I'll believe it when I wake up and he's still President."
Kate, the practical one, replied "I'm more worried if he'll still be alive."
Grumble grumble, put myself to bed.
To be awoken at 7:03 am by the most hideous, constant alarm...
I push the dogs off me and fight my way to comprehension.
Kate running around in a towel, almost ready for work. The NOISE, blaring.
She gets a step stool and attacks the fire alarm. "Is it a spider?"
Me, unable to form sentences, point uselessly again at the house alarm we've never set. Finally, she finds the panel by the front door and the persistent scream above me stops.
Four female eyes lock on each other, and with that telepathy women have shared since Palin's dinosaurs and cavemen ate us regularly for breakfast, we begin a more organized silent search of the house than the Green Berets could've conducted.
Meeting again under the suspiciously quiet alarm, we give our reports on the back forty and the various windows and doors of the large house. Kate, the awake voice of reason, asesses "It's probably a short. I'll call the owners later and they can call the alarm company. Go back to bed, everything's fine."
I head groggily towards my room as she continues, "No real alarms to wake up to. Nothing's been blown up. And he's still President."
Okay kids, it's 7:22 am on a Great Day in America, and I'm back to dreamland. I trust you all to hold down the fort whild I'm there, because I don't want to be waking up to any news that's any different.