We're heading down in about a half hour - I'll load the car, we'll go vote, pick up breakfast and hit the road. Our "report time" in Philly is 10:30AM.
The cynic in me says it's 10:30AM for a report time to schedule the surgery. Watch. They'll screw us over one way or the other. Watch me slug somebody (metaphorically speaking, of course - I would never actually lay hands on another person 'cause it's wrong and all that) if that happens.
Small breakfast, though. I'm up about 10 pounds since the start of marching season. That's what happens when you eat like crap and don't exercise and are on the wrong side of 30...
Argh. Nervous. Didn't sleep well or much last night. Ready for the surgery to be over so we can proceed with the rest of The Boy's treatment. Scared about these people gutting my kid like a fish.
Makes the election seem small and unimportant, doesn't it?