All over the country, people are trying to figure out how to get out of bed now that BHO has been elected. (Have you noticed: since Obama was elected, people are very free with his middle name?!)
One friend of mine, a distinguished PhD in psychology who teaches people how to cope, has self-identified as suffering from PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) and got positively teary as she looked upon my Women for Obama button that I attached to the top of a pumpkin.
Another friend, an expat from Italy who has lived here forever and was a more ardent Obama supporter than any native born person I know, told me she does not know how to channel her feisty energies other than reading the Huffington Post and that she has entirely removed the Drudge bookmark, the one that fired her up each day, from her browser.
Yet another claims that she mopes around from task to task, not really working, not really playing, unable to organize her time except for hastily-arranged coffees with other like-minded veterans of the Obama front.
Even the Republicans I know are a bit forlorn: after spending the last year sending me funny cartoons and digs at the Dems, they have taken to having long lunches with each other complaining about Henry Paulson, who after all is on their side and doesn't offer half as amusing a target.
As for myself, I have had about a dozen copies of the cell phone picture a fellow-supporter inadvertently captured at a fundraiser with Obama clutching both my hands and have put it on the kitchen counter so I can gaze soulfully into his eyes once again.
I've been trying to distract myself by cooking large meals and eating them, cleaning out the closets, throwing myself into huge work projects, making lots of lists and sticking Post-Its all over the computer and the walls near my desk to remind me to do things I have no interest in doing. Distractions of any kind, however accomplished, just serve to drive me back to grazing on leftover internet rumors and tidbits about the incoming team.
I was so much younger when I worked for McGovern and McCarthy and Bobby Kennedy and since those three campaigns all more or less ended in some kind of disaster, I didn't carry nostalgia around like some kind of squirrel holding a particularly tasty nut in my cheek.
But Obama gave us back something like the sixties in his way: a feeling of being united in a truly important cause, to be able to not just say you want a revolution, but to make one, however peaceful.
Of course, we will all return to the causes we normally support, the children and husbands we have neglected, the work we still care deeply about but which seemed insignificant.
Feeling good-for-nothing and having this lassitude will recede, I know. But I think it will be January before recovery (never mind from the financial and housing meltdown) is complete.
In the meantime, this is probably a great time to send me any recipes you need tested or swatches of fabric you want an opinion on as I am more or less entirely useless to myself or anyone else.