It’s 7:46 am, Sunday, and I am officially in hiding. I can’t look. Truly, I can’t. My eyes are behind my hands; I’m yelling “Bllllllaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah” over and over again, so I can’t hear anything.

I don’t want to hear any more political analysis until election day. No more conjecture; no more predictions; no more punditry. I don’t want to here how Obama’s slipping and McCain’s gaining; how Palin is killing the Republicans and Biden boosting the Democrats; how Ohio is leaning right, Florida is leaning left, Pennsylvania is … no. I don’t want to hear it.

No way.

And yet, I’m a junkie.

Where’s the remote?