Thursday, October 9, 2008

My husband is a politics crack-whore

It's been four years since the last presidential election, so I'd forgotten what it was like. I remember sleeping on the pull-out sofa in the living room to watch the election returns, and the deep, weeks-long malaise that Seth fell into after the country inexplicably re-elected Bush. But I really forgot. And it's true-my husband is a hardcore political junkie. I follow politics, but I have a finite capacity for the news, commentary, punditry, poll results, etc. Not Seth. He's whipped up into an MSNBC/Talking Points Memo/Daily Kos crack-mainlining frenzy. Sometimes, if he's not worked up enough, he turns on Fox News so he can really start foaming at the mouth. For the last few weeks, it's gone like this: I drag my tired pregnant ass off to bed at a reasonable hour. The dog tries to hang with Seth, but fails, and follows me to bed. A couple of hours later, I inevitably wake up because I have to pee, and I stumble out of the bedroom into the dual glow of the Mac and TV screens, into the drone of Keith Olbermann's voice, Seth still hunched over the computer, looking for more YouTube video of the last debate. Some hours after that, Seth finally drops into bed beside me.

He's even been home sick for the last couple of days. I've found him semi-comatose on the sofa, wrapped in a quilt and the voices of pundits. All of the pundits. Yesterday, he stayed home in the morning, and finally went to work around 1:00. When we got home after 6, he immediately turned on the TV and laptop so he could see what he'd missed in that precious five hours. "There might be POLL RESULTS!" I think he was twitching a little. I ask him "either/or" questions: Do you want a stir-fry or pasta for dinner? He answers "yes," eyes fixated on the computer screen, scrolling down the Kos website. Again.

Also yesterday, he said, "Why don't we make one last big donation to the Obama campaign?" We've been donating in smaller monthly increments. I asked him how much. He named a figure. I pointed out how many square feet of wood floor for our kitchen that would buy. We haggled it down to a number that would only be a nice kitchen faucet or 20-25 cabinet knobs and drawer pulls.

Part of him would be excited for the baby to be born on Election Day, but only if Obama wins. The other part of him realizes his head would explode if two such momentous events happened at the same time. God, Buddha, Allah, Krishna, or someone help us if there are election returns and labor going on at the same time. Someone is not making it out of that scenario intact or alive.

Last night, on my nightly 2-hours-into-sleep bathroom run, I asked Seth if he was coming to bed. I pointed out that he's been sick, and he needs to get some sleep. Not even looking up from the laptop, he whined like a petulant child, said he'd come to bed, and said, "But you know how I get in even-numbered years!"

Yes, I know. I'd forgotten, or maybe I was more forgiving in newly-engaged, ooh-sparkly ring!, haze of happiness four years ago than I am in the grunty, heavy, bladder-compressed-ness of late pregnancy. I hope I can tolerate another month of this, and it had BETTER have a good, ending, damn it, US voters, or there is going to be one surly, pregnant, white, uppity, East Coast, liberal elitist bitch gunning* for your ass.

*Not that I own any actual guns, being an afore-mentioned uppity white elitist type, despite the recent Supreme Court interference with DC's gun ban. But I'm quite sure I could do some solid damage to you with a breast pump.

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