Even Swamp Critters Get to Vote

I voted. Had to hold my nose on some of my choices, but I did it.

Unbeknownst to me, my precinct moved since the last time I voted. I went to where I used to vote, but there was nothing there. Then I drove around aimlessly for a bit until I spotted the blue “Precinct 30″ sign.

We used old-fashioned pieces of paper and had to color in little ovals with a pen. I hate that — I never could color inside the lines.

The election workers were, as always, pleasant and helpful. Around here, they’re always old, too. When I get old maybe I’ll have time to work elections.

When they asked for my picture ID (yay Florida!), I had a little trouble locating it. I could have used my state-issued CCW, but I didn’t want to scare anyone. It probably wouldn’t have bothered anyone (this is Florida, after all, plenty of people have carry permits), but it just didn’t seem appropriate. There’s the soap box, the ballot box, and the ammo box — and by voting, I guess I’ve admitted that it’s not time for the ammo box just yet. A couple more seconds digging located my driver license, so it wasn’t a problem anyway.