Even with two 13-year-old girls lying on my living room carpet talking in the sweet language of Math, I feel dread. It’s the election, you know. I have become obsessed with numbers, possibilities, fear, hope, CHANGE.

It’s impossible to focus with my daughter and her friend talking the problems out.

“T equals the square root of d to the third power over two sixteen,” Little A says.

“Oh, man!” my Girl says.

This late afternoon, I will not have time to obsess over anything more than how much milk to put in the potatoes for twice-baked potatoes.

Later, maybe, or tomorrow, I will wrestle here with my fascination, obsession, fear.

this will do for a first.