So, this is what life is like after the Election. I think I'm having some sort of post-partem depression. Maybe I've got empty-nest syndrome, now that George doesn't need me anymore. He's all grown up now, I know. Still, wouldn't kill him to call me every now and then and see how it's going.

Hmph. Kerry would've called.

Wednesday, I was in bed with a voluptuous, naked woman and a tumbler of 18-year old scotch, and I had my laptop open reading election reports. I remember thinking to myself, thank God I have wireless.

When, exactly, do you admit to yourself you have a problem?