Although I wasn’t feeling particularly good, I was determined to vote. John and I always voted, and I continued going alone after he died. With the cough having subsided a bit, I felt I wouldn’t be a menace to society by voting in a public place. I did use hand sanitizer just before driving to the firehouse.
I was glad there was no line, although one other voter was using a booth when I checked in. I had a paper ballot and colored in ovals next to the names I was voting for. That takes longer than you’d expect. If you don’t fill the space completely, that vote might not be counted. All went well until I went to deposit my ballot. By that time, there were others going through the process, and the people monitoring the voting didn’t notice that I was having trouble. I was about to walk over and ask why I couldn’t get the ballot to move through the copying machine and into a bin below. On her way in, neighbor Julie came over to speak to me and saw that my ballot was not being taken. She saw that it needed to go in a slot, which I couldn’t see. I was grateful to have aid from a friend without asking for official help.
