After practically two weeks of intense insomnia, I didn’t watch last night’s presidential debate.
Even without my prolonged lack of rest, I actually had every intention of seeing it through until about 45 minutes before Romney vs. Obama round III started. That’s when a large, spotted camel cricket jumped out from behind my loveseat in my living room.
I first tried killing it with a small box, but it neatly hopped away, thwarting my efforts to save myself the horrors of having to wonder where the little bugger was. When I finally located it again some five minutes later, it took all I had (i.e. a can of ant and roach Raid) to battle the thing to the death.
Clearly, since I’m writing this, I won; though there were some fairly shaky moments where I wondered if I would be so fortunate. And even as the winner, there was still a price to pay, as I had to leave the room to let the toxic fumes air out.
Well, that pretty much narrowed my options to going outside – with other disgusting camel crickets – or holing myself up inside my bedroom. I chose the latter, and once there, I just couldn’t find the energy to move again.
So I missed the debate.
And honestly? I can’t say that I care.
Yes, I know I’m the girl who’s obsessed with politics, and I usually much prefer to actually be there when the news happens instead of reading about it later. But after over four years of Obama’s campaigning – he really never stopped since 2008 or even 2007 – I’m over this President and anything he has to say short of “I’m sorry”… which will happen just as soon as hell freezes over.
I’m over his pandering and his bullying. I’m over his lies and conceit. I’m over his hypocritical attitude and egotistical obsession with getting his own way.
I’m just over him. And I have a feeling that a large enough part of America agrees with me, regardless of what the media may want to say.
So to me – and I’m assuming many others out there – it doesn’t really matter if Romney performed abysmally or amazingly in the debates.