11 Days.

It’s a beautiful night in the Windy City. The temperature is over 70ºF. There’s a mystical breeze blowing from the southwest. This is my most favorite type of relaxing weather. This is my favorite time of the year.

My husband watched the debate while I went for a walk through the neighborhood. I saw a few households lit up with the debate on their large televisions. With the nice weather I heard a couple of folks yell back at their television. I can’t bear to watch the debates. I still want to kick the television screen in whenever I hear Trump’s voice. To think there would be a day where I’d pine for the frivolity of George W. Bush.

It’s 11 days until the official Election Day. Millions and millions of people have already voted. Record numbers. People are voting. It gives me a glimmer of hope.

But boy, are these next 11 days going to drag on like an eternity.

We had many thunderstorms roll through the Windy City last night so we didn’t get much sleep. The news featured a photo of three distinct lightning bolts simultaneously striking the Trump Tower here in Chicago. God is speaking. It’s a shame his followers don’t listen. They’re reduced to cult status. I’d pity them if I wasn’t so angry and concerned with the state of this nation.

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