Role A Loose Tooth

I’m twelve hours ahead of the U.S. Eastern Standard Time.  I stirred this morning.  I don’t like to lie around idle in the morning bed.  I usually begin to vex about something.  This morning I leapt up quickly as I had plenty to vex on.  My first full day of consciousness absorbing the fact that Donald Trump will be the next president, was under way. 

 

I had become so addicted to the news.  I invested at least an hour every morning, reading about the election.  I would start with the New York Times and move to the Washington Post, consider the Wall St. Journal and dart over to Slate and the Huffington Post, trying to receive succour and a steel rail to hold on to.  I wanted reasons to believe this wasn’t going to happen.  And they were happy to oblige.  The New York Times told me up until the day before the election that Hillary had an 84 percent chance of winning.  The Huffington Post had HRC with a whopping 97 percent chance of winning.  That publication in particular, I find it very hard to look at this morning.  How could they have been off by such a ponderously wide margin?

I role a loose tooth in my mouth.  How much longer till the roots give?  It will dislodge itself, eventually.  The coffee tastes good.  I’ll need to get more.  The express mail guy at the door doesn’t care about the election.  My daughters do.  How could this have happened?  You can see the teenager developing a sense of outrage at policies she does not like but will now be normalized.  What is your responsibility? What is mine?

I’m conditioned to turn to the news after finishing a few tasks of work.  Has there been any update?  Is there progress on the election?  And time and time again it hits: there is no good news to be had.  The election is over and there is nothing but bitterness and misunderstanding.  I look at the newspaper any way.  This dread is confirmed.  No good news today.  No good news tomorrow