The Right to Choose

I have a lot of earth shattering decisions to make today.

Both my laptop and my refrigerator have died, and I can't decide which to replace first. Food or food for thought; I know I can't go very long without water, but I wonder how long I can last without either of those other essentials.

Granted, there are back up plans for both. I have a desktop, but when I tried to pack it up this morning and take it with me to Starbucks there were a few too many cables in the way. And it didn't fit so well in my purse. I also have an old -- and functioning -- refrigerator in the laundry room, but it just seems so far away when my bagel pops out of the toaster and I realize the butter is not within arm's reach. Talk about hardship.

As if the refrigerator/laptop dilemma weren't enough to send me to the pill cabinet, today is election day in deep dark suburbia. Confusion and mixed signals are the order of the day. On every spare patch of public grass there are indecipherable clusters of political signs. "Vote Yes!" and "Vote No!" signs stand shoulder to shoulder. Placards in every color of the rainbow jostle each other for position on the valuable real estate, shouting out names of candidates whose names I only recognize because of the signs themselves. The shorter the name, the bigger the letters, the more likely it will register on the brains of passing motorists.

Even my own front lawn has entered the political fray, speaking out of both sides of its mouth. I'm in a prime location for signage, and it's so hard to say no to friends. My lawn sports signs encouraging passersby to vote for five people for four spots on the school board. If I have to just rely on name recognition, I'm screwed. Oops.

As always, writing things down has given me clarity. I'm definitely going with the laptop; the refrigerator can wait. I'm getting blisters on my fingers from writing my Starbucks posts in long hand, and my eyes are straining from trying to read my abominable handwriting as I transcribe my thoughts onto my desktop. The weakened eyes will affect my ability to make an informed (sign-based) election decision, and my torn fingers will affect my accuracy in the voting booth. Not-so-instant gratification on the food front seems a small price to pay for participating fully in the democratic process.

Yep, definitely the laptop. The fridge will have to wait.