I think I have it. (I just made it up.)
Symptoms are: restless surfing for information that 1) I could post on MOMocrats to persuade maybe one more voting person to vote Democratic. 2) Will reassure me that Obama-Biden will win.
Symptoms also include 3) Making overwrought phone calls to people on my N2N list. (After totally humiliating myself the other day, I had to stop. Collect myself.) 4) Sleeplessness, combined (not surprisingly) with fatigue. 5) Loud-talking about how horrible McCain-Palin are for the country at a perfectly nice spontaneous lunch with HB, thereby annoying our dining neighbors. 6) Noting who has McCain-Palin signs on their front lawn in our neighborhood, and therefore leaping to outlandish conclusions about what kind of people they are, how they could possibly be so blind, etc etc.
Add in a little free-floating anxiety from owning a house, and putting another up for sale ON THE WORST FINANCIAL WEEKEND IN SAY, 80 YEARS, and yeah. I’m more twitchy than a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs. I’m feeling, as goes the Southernism, rather high-strung.
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That said, I wrote a post for the Blog Action: Poverty Day that stretched me a little from the usual policy-wonky bent. Writing-wise, it felt like coming home again; I realized how little of that kind of writing I do any more. But in terms of the emotional territory covered, it wasn’t at all like coming home again. It was like fleeing some very powerful and not altogether happy times that I still have strong, mixed feelings about.
The post made me think of my childhood friends all over again. I wondered what had become of them. And in googling for the links to my old hometown, I could see from statistics that nothing really had materially changed for the people who live there. Then commenced some survivor guilt.