I spent yesterday afternoon watching the New York Times election dashboard needle steadily move towards the worst possible result. It was more or less the same dashboard they had in 2016, and it was telling more or less the same tale. You end up hating the NYT and its damn needle as it moves past 60%, past 70%, past 80%, past 90% likelihood of victory.
The markings on the dial are numbered, but they could equally have been labelled denial, anger, bargaining, depression. Don't think I've ever moved through the stages of grief so swiftly. The acceptance followed, I don't know, some time this morning?
Acceptance is not embrace, but you have to take it in your stride, don't you?
