The following is a real text conversation:  

Me:  Will you come over?!  We have a mouse in our house and are scared!

Zach Wilkes:  I have no new South Carolina polling data... trust me, I'm scared too.  

At the time of this exchange--before the South Carolina primary--I thought our admirable political chair's words were selfish and uncalled for.  A hairy, scary mouse infecting my kitchen seems much more threatening than the coming primaries, which seemed all but in favor of Romney (obviously this train of thought is why I'm relegated to blogging instead of making the actual prediction).  Who knew that Zach's crazy, unwashed hair and tired-looking eyes came from the agony of actually predicting in a tough race?  Or maybe he looked that way because he knew Newt was going to prove the victor. Maybe my newest roommate, Stuart Little (am not 100 percent sure on a name yet) is a metaphor for the Republican Party. Both are running around pretty aimlessly, eating everything in their path-cheese or Texas Governors, and will not be trapped...or pick a candidate....

Or maybe I am just in need of a good exterminator and someone needs to call Bobby Jindal and get him out running.