Seduced by the Historical Moment

This preparing for calamity is a strange business. I can't get too excited by it. I'm not ready and know I'm not, but don't care. Is anybody else out there feeling the same way? Life will never be the same again, and yet, what's the big deal? I'm not ready to move on. Just writing this, I have no idea what I'm saying. I feel like the people in Pompei moving around their kitchens, tying their shoes, what would they have done differently if there had been a volcano forecast? We've got Hurricane Sandy bearing down and she could have my name punched out on a stub. But probably not. We'll probably bumble through like we always do. A few roof tiles off the house, power out for a week. Been there, done that. Roads washed away. Ho hum. Surviving is what we do. You might say I'm in presidential election funk. Nothing else even comes close to matching the importance, the sway of this personal moment, this appointment with history. That's what comes from living in a swing state. My vote matters. This whole thing matters. There is a difference between the two candidates. At least that's what I tell myself right now. Not even a natural disaster is as important as Obama vs. Romney. This is wrong. I know it. A correction is coming. Talk to me in a few days and I'll have a different opinion. But I'm stuck this morning.