I don't feel like gloating.
I am not cocky.
I am superstitious, won't walk under a ladder, toss salt over my shoulder if I spill it, but don't feel that way about this.
I am compassionate. I have some dear die-hard Republican family members that I know are experiencing that hopeless hopeful feeling that has been all-too familiar to me in the past two elections. I want to call their nearest and dearest and ask them if they have stocked up on the Bud, Blue Moon, Scotch, or whatever their beverage of choice is these days, because I think they are going to need it Tuesday night.
When Wednesday comes, I won't call them, but I will be thinking of them. But I won't hide my smiles. I am going to be smiling a lot this week.