Super...fluous

I went outside to stretch my legs and pick up some fries from Astro Burger, down the street. Popped into the old polling place just for kicks, and they didn't have me on record, so I filled out a form, inked up my ballot, and left with a sticker.

Without getting too sentimental about it (as that's my downfall), I'll say that I moved for about half an hour last year. As it happened, my license was up for renewal, and I had a new address, so I put it down on my DMV forms. I had all my mail forwarded to my new address, as well. Magazines, everything.

My move-out day arrived, and I rented a truck. Nick came over to help me load & unload. We carried the mattress downstairs, and paused to say hello to some neighbours. They asked if I was moving, I said I was. We had put about half the stuff into the truck when I realised that that was about all that would fit in the new place, which smelled like stale salmon. My new roommate to be, the face, so to speak, of Dickies Jeans, liked to grill it daily on her Foreman, and the stench seemed semi-permanent. Attractive as she was, I wasn't sure I wanted half of everything I owned to smell like seafood, nor where I'd put the other half. Nick and I discussed it for a few minutes, and he helped convince me to stay put. Very Mitch Hedberg of him. So we unloaded the truck and returned it, then went to In-N-Out.

* * *

The polling place is a retirement home, I believe, and it was overhot, smelled a little off, and had crumbs everywhere. I felt guilty about bringing germs into an old people's haunt, so I tried not to touch anything.

Being there was just another reminder of times past. The last time I was there, I voted Green, I believe, in a rather pitiful personal effort to get another party represented, as at the time, I thought the two-party system allowed for little progressive thinking. I suppose if I really wanted progressive thinking, I wouldn't live in this country.