Poll inspector took my fun away :(

Y'know, there's one group that always catches grief, and nobody ever notices -- people with sucky handwriting.

I actually got hassled at the polls today, 'cause they didn't like my signature. They didn't think today's scribble looked enough like my previous scribbles -- this despite the fact that I've voted every time I had the opportunity, every time I've had something I was allowed to vote on, since I turned 18, and I've never had a problem before. So that was crap. They did let me vote, after I showed them my license and they believed I was me, but geez, now I know a bit how all of those disenfranchised voters felt/feel -- it was sorta scary, standing there, wondering if they were going to take away one of the most important rights I have as an American, simply because my writing sucks.

The lousy thing, too, is that I always leave the polling place feeling really good, uplifted, like I did my part for America and exercised my tiny amount of power. Today, they took that away from me -- I felt a bit relieved and a bit shaky like I'd done something wrong, even though I obviously hadn't.

So now, here I sit, having done my civic duty, waiting for results to eventually come in (and almost every story I have to lay out tonight is an election one -- crap). And I'm behind on my NaNo word count now, too. What a crappy day this is turning out to be. I hope it ends well, at least, 'cause my stomach can't take a day like today -- it was already an ulcer-y day permeated by low-level, persistent stress.