Dolorocrats?

I came upstairs after voting (the lobby of my building is, conveniently, a polling station) and found the apartment in disarray.

"Dolores," I said. "Dolores, why are all the sheets and towels on the floor in the hallway?"

"We needed office space," she said. "Say, have you seen the hammer lately?"

"It's under the bathroom sink," I said. "Office space for what?"

"Comin' through," said a soft voice near my feet. "Move it or lose it."

Harry rolled past with a bunch of the other sock yarns, carrying between them a placard that read "HEADQUARTERS."

"Where are you going with that?"

The phone rang.

"Hello?"

"This is Jack at the front desk. You got a delivery here for D. Van Hoofen. Send it up?"

You will of course understand that I no longer accept deliveries to the apartment without checking them out first. Upon inspection, I found that Dolores had ordered two hundred yards of red, white, and blue bunting and fifty very small straw boaters with star-spangled ribbons.

"Dolores," I asked, not for the first time, "What the hell is going on?"

"In time of great need, my country is calling me," said Dolores. "And like Sir Francis Drake, I can but answer."

"Calling you? Calling you to what?"

"To organize. To lead. To inspire. Last night, I had a dream!"

"Oh, shit."

"Watch your mouth. It was beautiful! I was standing on a platform in the middle of Soldier Field, and there were thousands of people there, and I had a new hat, and everybody was cheering, and then a giant finger appeared in the sky and wrote DOLORES IN 2008 in flaming letters. I've never thought of myself as a political animal, but you don't have to tell me twice."

"You're running for President?"

"Well, I don't want to jump the gun, cupcake. We're in the exploratory stages. Listen, do you mind if I pull out the good bridge cloth? I have Libby Dole and some of the other girls coming over for lunch tomorrow. Hey, you okay? You look kinda green."

"It's one of my headaches coming on," I said.

"Again? You should get that checked. Hey, Harry–I need you to correct this welcome banner, she spells 'Hillary' with two Ls."

"You got it, chief. Ann Coulter is on the phone again. She's crying this time and wants to know pretty please can she come to the party?"

"Tell her to buy a box of Kleenex and remember that the restraining order is still in place."

"This is insane, Dolores," I said. "Stop and think for a minute. You're a heavy drinker. An elitist. With notoriously low morals. Related to any number of shady characters. You have no foreign policy experience. Your head is full of wool. Why on earth would anyone vote for you?"

"Who says lightning can't strike a third time?" she sniffed.