I am breathing sighs of relief every day since Saturday morning. I have felt an enormous weight lifted from my shoulders. I am sleeping better. Music sounds sweeter.
Trump has lost and despite all of his whining, law suits, recriminations, and tantrums--will be out of the White House on January 20. If I need to drive down to Washington, D.C. and help remove Trump with a straight jacket and handcuffs, I will gladly do so.
So allow me to backtrack. When I last posted on Wednesday, November 4, I was disappointed that the count had Biden up by a fingernail, if that. But honestly, I should have expected that. The count at that point reflected the in-person voters, which were mainly Trump voters. By the time the mail-in ballots were counted, which were overwhelmingly Biden voters because Biden voters believe in science and that the coronavirus pandemic is real, the tide had shifted. By Thursday, I was feeling much more relieved. By Saturday it was official. Joe Biden is the 46th President of the United States. Kamala Harris is the first female Vice-President in American history. (And the first Black Vice-President and the first Vice-President of Asian descent).
While I was agonizing over the election last week, I did everything I could to avoid the wall-to-wall 24-hour news coverage. That involved going out for runs/walks and watching any television that was NOT election coverage: Pen15 on Tuesday night, a PBS Nature documentary and Colosseum: Roman Death Trap (also on PBS) on Wednesday evening, and more episodes of Pen15 on Thursday night. I can't even remember Friday night.
Every major news outlet declared Biden the winner on Saturday morning, and the first thing I did was play a vinyl copy of R.E.M.'s Out of Time that I'd bought about a week before but hadn't yet had a chance to listen to. That album has never sounded sweeter. It was an extraordinary feeling of relief that will only bet better when Trump is gone on January 20.
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