By 11:30 a.m. last Friday morning I’d washed the dishes from the previous night’s dinner, installed a new washing machine and unclogged the bathtub in the kids’ bathroom. I’d also taken our sweet dog, Lucy, for a walk, listened to my daughter read her college essay and written postcards to seven of our California representatives, expressing my outrage at their votes to not certify our election after a violent mob of their supporters stormed our nation’s Capitol, defecated in the halls, murdered a police officer and attempted to hang our vice president and assassinate the speaker of the house.