Yesterday, we set out into the beautifully sunny-but-crisp day to fufill our civic duty and vote. We arrived at the polling area in about two minutes because the place is right behind our house (with a sturdy trebuchet, I could hurl a water balloon at the closest voter). I saunter up to the "E to R" line (which by 3pm was non-existent) and announce my name. The granny manning the list scrolled down to where my name should have been, double-backed, triple-checked, and then looked up at me.

"It doesn't look like your name is here, sweetie. Did you recently move?"
"Why, yes. Yes, I did."
"Oh, then let's check this other list."

She pulled out another stack of papers but to no avail. Self-righteous thoughts of disenfranchisement and Republican conspiracies flitted through my head.

"Hmm, not here either. That's alright, you can vote on the special ballot. Are you a Democrat?" she asked as she naturally reached for a blue Democrat card. More than 285,000 Democrats are registered in DC versus 30,560 Republicans.

"Um, no," I responded, "I'm independent."

(pause) "Ohhh, you can't vote in the Primaries!"

(mental slapping of forehead) "Oh yeah. I forgot."

Ah well, at least one of us voted. . .