It really wasn’t that bad. But the sweltering heat and the village idiots who at age 40-ish still do not know how to fall in line and follow elementary instructions really rallied against my tolerance. Thank you camera phone, for being an effective tool against boredom and my dwindling patience. Thank you trees, for the borrowed shade and wind.
My mom wanted to vote, but she just got through her 3rd chemo and thank God she decided not to go at all. I wanted her to exercise her right to vote for Gibo, but seeing those snakes of lines, I was grateful she foresaw the torture. My dad was in A-OK shape but he had to find shelter on a bench under a tree for his blood pressure.
And so I shaded as directed (stupid pen flew of my hand and doodled over the page by Gordon and Villar’s name. I hope my vote for president still counts! And counts properly). I was kinda tense, it felt like UPCAT all over again. And so I scanned the frail thing and it was successful! Indelible ink on my right forefinger–I am a voter!
I rush outside to a spot less dense with people, only to realize that I did not turn the page to vote for my local government officials.
I am so clever. Please don’t shoot me.