"It's 7:30 Little Birdie!" The Hub shouted up the stairs. "Your tea is steepin'! No president yet! Ohio this time!"

I literally put my head under my pillow and groaned.

It was aweful enough last night trying to watch the election coverage at my mother's house. The Hub was exhausted. He fell asleep on the sofa. And he snores. Meanwhile "The Crossfire Gang", who seemed like a group of unemployable people plucked out of a desperately needed anger management class, yammered on and on on CNN. I did a crossword puzzle while listening to see if there was going to be any actual news or analysis. Half of the comentators must have had the collective I.Q. of Mr. Potato Head. I mean, yes, I have to talk my way through, or write down a math problem - but I'm not on national television. And you know if I could do math in my head faster than these people then these guys must have been the bottom of the barrel even if they were Mass Com majors. God Bless America!...

After awhile, the Hub woke up and, not quite remembering where he was, yelled at Tucker Carlson, "Have you any idea how stupid you look in that bow tie? And, for God's sake, man, get a haircut!"

We left when they declared PA for Kerry, but I left with a heavy heart. Because America was looking just as divided as it did 4 years ago.

Everybody knows the rest of the story: how Kerry graciously conceded in the face of insurmountable numbers from Ohio. Good move on his part, but the next thing I heard was that Bush was going to "aggressively move ahead with his adjenda" since "he felt he had a mandate from the people".

Well, I suppose he has more of one than he did when he started out. I wish I could feel that "Evangelical" voters had voted their faith swinging the election into Bush's camp on a high moral ground. What I suspect is that all kinds of people voted their fear: their fear of another terrorist attack, and that the far Right will learn how to use this fear as a weapon in an arsinal of indimidation. Far from punishing the Bush administration for not paying enough attention to Al Quaida, and allowing the worst attack on our country since Pearl Harbor to take place, fearful Americans voted to "stay the course" or "stick with the devil they knew". I heard a LOT of people saying, " I don't like Bush, but in war time you just can't switch horses in mid-stream." If Fear + War = Votes then this country will be embroiled in conflict for a long time. Bush warned us to expect the war on terror to take a long time. If it looks like it's a good distraction from the polorization of American society between the "haves" and "have nots" we can expect it to take another 4 more years, and to get conveniently worse in '08.

Sigh.

But I am getting to be a cranky old cynic. And life goes on.

Mr & Mrs. C.B. both have terrible colds. They also have a little brown mouse, at least one, in their apartment. I saw him today. Fast little bugger which I chased round and round with a broom and trash can, but he got in behind the television and then who knows where he went. Mrs. C.B. is just horrified of him, but she confessed that she felt that she couldn't scream since I didn't. They have traps set, but these are smart little country mice, the "better beans and bacon in peace than cakes and ale in fear" types. They don't go near the traps, even baited with peanut butter.

I'm not afraid of mice, but they are a little startling, the way they zip along. It's not nearly as easy to toss a trashcan over one as it looks - sort of like one of those carnival games that you should be able to do on the first try but then wind up spending $20 on. It didn't thrill me that this one didn't seem all that frightened of me in general. The idea of bold mice in the home of one of my clients is appalling.

Mrs. C.B. is an excellent housekeeper. She only has me clean on account of her eyesight. She's afraid she might miss some thing, but she very rarely does I suspect they may be coming in through the store room at the back of her place where it connects to her irresponsible son's home. I have no illusions about the housekeeping over there, but there's nothing I can do about it. They leave their trash sit and Mrs. C.B. has to deal with the mice. Talk about the rain falling on the just and the unjust alike!

My first thought was to take Vio-kitty up there. Win-win situation, right? Mrs. C.B. gets rid of her mice and Vio-kitty gets live prey. The only trouble with Vio-kitty, since she regained her health is she now has a very BROAD definition of prey. Newspapers people are trying to read, Winston's tail and haunches, my feet, The Hub's feet, plastic bags, the cord for the iron - you name it, it's fair game. We don't need to bring out the frisky in our cat; we're trying to stuff it back in there, thank you very much. I'm afraid that the she'd veiw poor Mr. C.B.'s twitching bedroom shoe as just another opportunity to pounce.

But maybe I could take her on supervised visits. Sometimes critters take off when they know a cat is even "around". Or maybe, since the mouse is there and is the real thing, she would forsake all distractions and give it her all. She is an excellent hunter. She brought home a critter a day on days when she could get outside: and we live in town so there's hardly a plethora of critters.

Still, it seems like too much risk. And what a side line to get into: Rent-A-Kitty!
Ohhh - I think too much election coverage did something to my brain!