The world is still surreal. And the news is substantially the same this morning as it was last night. We have no president. There are no adults in the room (yet).
Today is a work day, so the first indication of a resolution will be when the fat Irishman on the porch starts swearing (more likely) or has an orgasm of Trumpian joy and exultation (less likely).
Most of the time a dull and monotonous mumbling, droning, will be the only indication that he's out there, uncomfortably festering in his seat.
This should be an interesting day.
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