The Candidate's Wife: Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition

It's 8:56 p.m. The signature-gathering event is tomorrow.

People are coming over at 11:30 to pick up nominating petitions and walk lists. A walk list is a list of names and addresses sorted by whatever criteria. Usually, if you are campaigning, you don't bother talking to someone who never votes. You don't bother with someone who is solidly on the other side. You want to spend as little time as possible per voter to get the vote. If there were unlimited time, I suppose you could try to convince the non-voters that this time, they should vote, but your time is probably better spent talking to ten other people who do vote.

[And this is why I was not outraged when Mitt Romney said something about not bothering to try to reach the 47%. He said, "There are 47 percent of the people who will vote for the president no matter what." What followed that was not so good, but honestly, that's the fact of campaigning - you are usually not going to convince the other side to vote for you. So you try to turn out the base and, if possible, get the people in the middle.]

Primo has not printed the petitions or the walk lists.

Primo has discovered he is almost out of toner.

Office Max is closed.

I. Am. Dying.

Unforced error, I call it.

So I am stress eating.

And I have been stress baking all day.

I swear this campaign is going to kill me.