Self-Important, Officious Little Despots

I went to vote this afternoon. I had meant to vote an absentee ballot but didn’t get my request sent in on time and so I trundled down to my polling place. I have voted in every election, I’m pretty sure since I registered to vote in West Virginia which was 1986 or, perhaps, 1987.  Today was the first time they ever gave me an “I Voted” sticker, but they sucked all the joy out of that.

They keep changing my precinct number — I switch back and forth between Cabell County Precinct 60A and Cabell County Precinct 60B. It has something to do with my last name being the middle of the alphabet.

Sure enough, they changed me again. I got a brand new Voter Registration Card a while back and I tucked it into my wallet for this day.

I walked into a mostly empty highschool gym. I went to 60A. I had to wait for the gentleman in front of me to get his ballot. They asked him for ID and he gave them what appeared to be a driver’s license. OK, fine. It’s my turn. I give them my brand, spanking new Voter Registration Card and they ask for me for photo ID.

Now that struck me wrong. I was pretty sure that my card was sufficient, but I’ve had a long day, I was cranky, and I had ID. I gave it to her.

When I got home, I checked the Secretary of State’s website for acceptable ID at the polls. It clearly states that my Voter Registration Card is sufficient.

I am tired of officious, self-important despots changing the rules to reflect their personal opinions. Or whatever it was that went on. She was clearly wrong. But so was I. I didn’t speak up. It was a long day. I was tired. I had photo ID.

I’m told that polling personnel go through training. I would think that proper identification would be a significant portion of that training. If they are screwing up something as basic as that, what else are they doing? I don’t give a rat’s ass if you think a photo ID should be required. That is not the law. Polling personnel don’t get to make the rules.

Yes, I’ve already sent email to the Secretary of State’s office and will fill out the complaint form as soon as I can convince my printer to print.


COVID 19: Day 87: Normal

Today is Day 87 of my social isolation.  I broke quarantine and went into the office.  I had to.  I’m up to my ass in alligators and it’s time to clean out the swamp.

It was nice to sit at my desk.  I had Mexican take-out for lunch.  I riffled through email and an email technology problem.  I shuffled some paper around.  I made a few phone calls.  It was all so normal.  Nice, splendid normal.

Tomorrow I will go in for what will probably be a full day.  We have a big technology project underway and I don’t even know what continent my ducks are on — forget having them in a row.

Normal.  It’s a nice respite, but I think it’s just that.  I don’t think the pandemic is even close to over.  But I’ll take a day like this now and again.  Oh, yes, I will.

COVID-19: Day 82: Early Mornings

Sunrise over cloudy mountain ridge

Enter Creator: Photographer: Nickolay Khoroshkov
Copyright: Copyright:Nickolay Khoroshkov
Information extracted from IPTC Photo Metadata.a caption  Wikipedia Creative Commons

My sleep pattern is really off — even for me.  It’s stress and tension and worry and current affairs.  It’s not quite 5 a.m., and I’ve been up for well over an hour.

For most of my adult life, I was a night owl.  Then I entered the halcyon days of going to bed at 10 p.m. with a book and waking at 6 or 7 a.m.  Then the Evil Menopause occurred, and sleep became elusive.  I’m either past that or have made peace with it, but now I’m stuck on the to-bed-by-8 and up at 4 a.m. pattern.  This is a problem.

It’s even more of a problem now because between 8 p.m. and 4 a.m. I’m up multiple times.  For water, to pee, to stare at the screen, to stare at the wall.  My mind churns, and my spirit is disturbed.

With current affairs being what they are (mayhem), I am sleep deprived.  I punctuate my late afternoon with a long nap, but I don’t think I’m getting enough hours in a row.  My dreams are vivid and, often, disturbing.  Working, writing, and tending to life’s daily chores are hard.

I need some peace, but that seems unlikely.  So.  I need to learn how to navigate this turmoil.  These are momentous times — I need to be sharp.