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muckefuckI've been feeling like a malingering slug all day. I called in for the morning on the pretext of getting more sleep. After a couple fruitless hours lying curled up with the cat, I threw in the towel and called in for the afternoon as well. I thought I might get something done--an errand, a load of laundry--but I couldn't even read more than a dozen pages in any of my books. (I'm in the middle of a half dozen at the moment, but that's a different story.)
Just now a pollster called and asked if I was a registered voter in the ward, and I agreed to the ensuing survey in the hope that I would glean some sense of accomplishment however tiny upon completing it. My heart began to sink, however, as she rolled off a list of names that said nothing at all to me--including that of my very own alderman. When it came to approval ratings, she gave me the option of telling her I didn't know enough to say and soon I was evading whole swathes of questions in this way.
Finally she told me she was going to read me a bit about each aldermanic candidate. By the time we reached the third on the list, it began to dawn on me that I was hearing the place names "Wicker Park" and "Roscoe Village" an awful lot. Finally I told her, "I don't think you have the right ward."
"What ward are you in?"
"I think I'm in the 40th."
"You aren't in the 32nd?"
"No, definitely not."
"This has been happening a lot..."
I commiserated with her about the lousy script she was given and we wished each other a good night. (She had revealed to me earlier that she was in "Upper Michigan" and had no idea who was footing the bill; from the slant of the questions, it was pretty obviously Scott Waguespack's reelection campaign.) I still feel pretty foolish for not catching on sooner, but in my defence they just redrew the boundaries before the last election.
Just now a pollster called and asked if I was a registered voter in the ward, and I agreed to the ensuing survey in the hope that I would glean some sense of accomplishment however tiny upon completing it. My heart began to sink, however, as she rolled off a list of names that said nothing at all to me--including that of my very own alderman. When it came to approval ratings, she gave me the option of telling her I didn't know enough to say and soon I was evading whole swathes of questions in this way.
Finally she told me she was going to read me a bit about each aldermanic candidate. By the time we reached the third on the list, it began to dawn on me that I was hearing the place names "Wicker Park" and "Roscoe Village" an awful lot. Finally I told her, "I don't think you have the right ward."
"What ward are you in?"
"I think I'm in the 40th."
"You aren't in the 32nd?"
"No, definitely not."
"This has been happening a lot..."
I commiserated with her about the lousy script she was given and we wished each other a good night. (She had revealed to me earlier that she was in "Upper Michigan" and had no idea who was footing the bill; from the slant of the questions, it was pretty obviously Scott Waguespack's reelection campaign.) I still feel pretty foolish for not catching on sooner, but in my defence they just redrew the boundaries before the last election.
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