Calls from pollsters rang on my phone — both before and after I voted on Election Day

I have to admit I have been anticipating this day for weeks now. Not necessarily because I'm gung-ho about politics, but because of the blitz of political ads and phone calls. It has been out of control. If it wasn't for the fact that my husband is the bishop of our ward, I would unplug the phone.

I thought that since today was the day — the phone calls would finally stop. Apparently not. I received two calls from the same organization within an hour of each other this Election Day before leaving for my voting precinct. They wanted to know if I planned to vote, but I would cut them off before the next question, which was about who I was going to vote for. I politely thanked them for their concern and hung up.

I arrived at my local precinct a little after noon, which was later than I had intended. I anticipated a long line giving that it was lunch hour. I heard from family members that had voted early this morning that there were long lines extending to parking lots for most places in our voting area.

That was not the case for me. I guess there were a lot of early-bird voters. I did see the campaign workers who were ready to pounce. I parked as close as I could to the door and tried to speed walk my way pass them. One got me, however.

The lines were short, approximately 30-40 people, and moving smoothly. It was a three-step process: identification table, ballot pick-up, then wait for an open booth.

This was my first time voting with paper ballots. I'm used to the computer ballots or lever voting machines. I don't like paper ballots. I worried too much about whether it would be rejected because of my ink pen color or because I colored outside the bubble lines. In the end, the machine accepted it and I breathed a sigh of relief that I had fulfilled my civic duty.

I hoped the peace I felt would follow me home. Wrong again. More calls from pollsters. I guess there's hope for tomorrow.

Tequitia Andrews is a freelance writer based in Virginia.