Hammered

I've been hammered. Not from drinking. I went out to Salted Pig with my wife and the Director of Marketing of our company for a mid-evening meal, while we awaited election results. I drank artisanal root beer and decaffinated coffee. My wife declined alcohol, too. Our marketing chief shuns the stuff. We were sober all eve. We got the news of Romney's defeat before we left the restaurant when my wife went to the web on her phone. I was less surprised than disappointed. Then, trying to sleep, instead of counting sheep, I began to enumerate the factors that will push up the misery index in Obama's next four years. Sleep came eventually, but when I woke in the morning, my face felt swollen and bruised. Slick Eddie the Street Smart President beat my face senseless.