I voted, and I brought three children with me, and I was queasy, and there was very little parking and I had to parallel park, and as far as I’m concerned this makes me some sort of American hero. I was all set in case a newspaper reporter wanted to interview me about my brave struggle to vote: “Voting is a responsibility,” I’d say. “We’re all ‘busy,’ but that’s no excuse.” Then I’d smile blindingly for my photo, hoping there wasn’t shredded wheat in my teeth and that none of my children had a finger in his or her nose.

It’s harder to get excited about non-presidential elections. I admit it was only this morning that I went online to research the candidates. I couldn’t find anything that didn’t make all the candidates sound all the same (either all lying dirtbags or all “pro-education! pro-people! pro-love!”), so finally I went with my usual voting technique when there aren’t clear differences: I voted for Democrats for policy positions, Republicans for positions budgeting the money or handcuffing criminals or filing paperwork, and girls over boys because there should be more girls in office. There. *Briskly whisking my hands together* I did my part for the country.

Evaluating my voting technique put down in black-and-white like that, I’m glad that each individual vote doesn’t make much of a difference, and that it’s the big clumps of votes that count. I wouldn’t actually want to be in charge of choosing who wins, I only want to add my driplet of water to the barrel and hope that any dumb-ass decisions I make get canceled out by someone else’s driplet.