I have to vote early. I hate that. With a fiery passion. I hate it because I really love to vote. Sounds silly and weird, I know. But I do. Voting early seems like opening all of the presents under the tree before Christmas morning and then wrapping them back up again. There is something exhilarating to me about the first Tuesday in November. There is a tension in the air and a buzz all around. And I love it. I really love it. However, I know that my time on Tuesday will be better spent on a street corner with a Terry Yarbrough sign in my hand, then standing in a line to cast my vote for hours and hours. So, I am going to go vote on Thursday morning.
I have been hearing horror stories from various folks about standing in line for early voting. My friend, Erica, stood in line at the library from ten to three yesterday. My dad went to the college yesterday morning and he was there around 8:20, was number forty in line, it took an hour, and by the time it was his turn there were two hundred and forty people behind him. Yeah. That’s just crazy. Think about it, an hour for every forty people. Craziness. Thus, I am going to go and vote early. Even though it pains me to do so.