The basement had a mind of its own.

The basement had a mind of its own, so did the conservatory and the vestibule. The attic was a lot more conformist - you would never guess that!  The front hall closet choked with winter coats in the summer is too satisfied to put up a fight.

First floor bathroom was also very satisfied with its new tiling job, so it was going to vote for the incumbent.  So all the political action was coming from the basement, this field kitchen, with some cooperation from the bedrooms, with me vacuuming badly, and didn't have a dog in this fight.

The primary vote was coming, and the curtains refused to be drawn. It was a simple but effective gesture of protest. All through the night, the toilet gurgled and the garbage disposal in the kitchen would grind spontaneously.

In the silver morning after the election, we stumbled downstairs to pick up the pieces. It's no wonder things never improve around here. There are too many entrenched factions, no compromise, and voter apathy is no longer frowned upon. We have a lot of work to do to get the house in order.