By ALISSA WARREN
I have the perfect policy that will ensure almost every single vote.
Yep. Rudd, Abbott, listen up.
It’s called ‘Vote to You’. You knock on my front door with a sheet of paper and a pen and I’ll vote for you.
That’ll just about get me over the line.
Because already – with a whopping four weeks before the election – I’m already having Voting Anxiety. Not about who I’ll vote for. That’s worthy of a far less serious debate. But about how I’ll actually vote. Literally. Because every election – council, state, federal – I go through the same moves about as awkwardly as Kevin Rudd swoops his right part with his left hand.
The Night Before:
“Don’t forget to vote tomorrow.” Ugh. I feel the same way about this statement as I do about these … “Have you done your tax?” and “Can you clean the filter in the dishwasher?” Has to be done. Like getting new tyres for your car. But when it comes to voting, my body actually physically protests. I hunch my back, flop my arms around my knees and throw my head back like a three year-old. “Tomorrow?” How has this happened so soon? I spend weeks living election coverage. My friends discuss Joe Hockey’s lap-band surgery, my Dad regurgitates talkback radio and my political-junkie husband stews over every uber-second of possible election coverage. And then all of a sudden – boom! – like Kevin Rudd pouncing Julia Gillard (or vice-versa), I’m panicking about how I’m going to manage the morning. And then I’m there …