You know, I don't actually remember what I was doing or thinking on election night in 2000. I know I was in law school, but I don't remember whether I was checking returns, or if I went to bed thinking that Gore had won, or what. I simply have no idea.
Today, I went to work, and got less done than I'd hoped. I made baked macaroni and cheese for dinner, and after dinner assembled cheese lasagna to be cooked tomorrow for when papersky and zorinth are here. The cheese sauce was thinner than usual, but it seems to have baked down okay. I made the tomato sauce for the lasagna from semi-scratch for the first time, so I can guarantee its pepper-free state if papersky decides she wants some. It looks a little weird; I'm worried that I burned the garlic, that crushed tomatoes were the wrong thing to get, that it simmered too long or not long enough. I tried tasting it, but my stomach is in such knots, and has been all day, that nothing would have tasted right.
I don't know what to do with myself. There is no way I will be able to get to sleep, despite being exhausted for days or even weeks at this point; we have some OTC sleep aids, but I think they'd just add to the jitters, and anyway I usually start awake the instant their four hours are up. Normally when I'm stressed I'd read a book, but that hardly seems fair to the book. I can't stand to listen to TV, web pages only update so often, Chad's gone to bed, the dog is chasing rabbits in her sleep across the room, and I don't have the concentration or fine motor control to update the poor neglected book log or play games—and barely enough to write this.
The Post has Bush with 237 electoral votes right now, to Kerry's 188. I am genuinely afraid that I might be physically ill.