My column deadline is supposed to be Wednesday at noon, for submission the following Sunday. I’ll admit that sometimes I stretch that deadline a bit.

It’s Wednesday morning, and I am tired. I woke up at 4 a.m. to go to the bathroom and saw that the race had been called for Donald Trump. I saw a light on in the living room and stumbled out. Bo was sitting on the couch and I knew she knew. I sat down and said, “I saw,” and she said, “I know.” I went to lie down again because I had to get up for work; you have to clock in even if you’re scared for your family’s future.

I don’t want to write anything. I don’t want to think of fancy words or a good take on things and I don’t even really want to organize my thoughts. All I can think of is unprintable swear words. I’m sad and scared. Mad, too. Frustrated. Bitter, even. Like, this guy? Really? I could understand electing a regular conservative, but this friggin’ guy? With the bronzer and the rambling about Hannibal Lecter and the felony convictions in a court of law? Do I need to worry about anti-LGBTQ violence? Should I buy a gun to protect my family?

We don’t have a call on which way the House of Representatives will swing. Will abortion care be outlawed nationwide? Will it be safe for me to try and have a baby, given that any pregnancy for me is a high-risk pregnancy? Do I need to worry that, because I’ve publicly criticized Trump in a newspaper, I’ll be locked up or shot at, as he has indicated he’d like to do to members of the mainstream media?

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’m that important in the grand scheme of things, and this isn’t a big outlet (by national standards), but what if he gets bored once he’s through with CNN and starts looking for smaller targets?

This sucks. It sucks so much. Anyone who isn’t already rich, such as Scrooge McDuck, is going to have their life get significantly worse economically – including most of the regular people who voted for Trump. Is it really worth it for you guys in order to be able to see other people suffer? That’s just so weird to me. Good luck with the privatization of Medicare and Social Security, I guess.

Here in America, men hate women and white people hate Black people. Maybe Democrats would have won if they’d run a white guy. Or maybe they wouldn’t have. Maybe a majority of Americans want a dictator instead of a president. For the in-groups, fascism seems like a great deal. You don’t have to worry about stuff, pay attention to political goings-on, and all the people you don’t like just sort of go away.

At least I’m not hungover … Election Night in 2016 is a vivid memory for me. My mom, sister, our neighbor Roxanne and I were having an Election Night party because we were so sure we were going to see America elect its first female president. We started out the night drinking kir royales, a delicious drink made of raspberry liqueur and champagne. Then we settled in to watch the results roll in.

After a while, we ran out of the raspberry liqueur and switched to straight champagne. Then I switched to vodka (nobody else hit the vodka, that was a Victoria thing). I cried. Sobbed, actually. I was the sobbing liberal that Trump voters seem to enjoy making fun of. (I don’t know why people like laughing at someone who is scared and upset. Americans are meaner than I thought.)

I was scared. My sister had recently converted to Islam and Trump had run on a Muslim ban. I was so drunk and so scared and all I could think of was how I was going to protect my baby sister. My baby sister is 24 now. Not a baby anymore. And she’s in the Netherlands at graduate school. Even though I miss her a lot, I’m so glad she’s there.

I had to take a pause from drafting this column because just now, in the middle of writing it, my dog Janey (who, by the way, is from Mexico) randomly threw up on the floor. So we’re both feeling the same way.

Last week, I wrote that this election felt, to me, like a callback to the battle of views between my two great-great-grandfathers: Filipino immigrant Victor and KKK member Garrett. Expansive idea of America vs. isolationist, exclusive, violent idea of America. America picked Garrett.

And now, I have to go clean dog barf off the floor. Which is most likely pretty much what the next four years are going to be like, politically and economically speaking.

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