Hear that?

That’s silence. The election ends and the airwaves return to normal.

No longer will we need to listen to the litany of names. Fitzpatrick. Kim. Menendez. Casey. Carper. McArthur. Scott Wallace/Wagner/Walker/Weiner/Whatever. Half the names fall down the memory hole and the other half only surface when you need your street repaved.

No longer do we need to hear the ominous disembodied voices gravely discussing the issues. No more underage prostitutes. No more golf spikes to the face. No more egregious tax breaks. No more Willie Horton 2: Electric Boogaloo.

We can make dinner in peace now with just the regular, normal prattle, easily tuned out. We can make morning coffee without the blare of electoral issues, instead soothed by the background noise of Jim Sipala wanting to see ya in a Kia and fitness tips from Shoshanna.

Soon even the signs littering the highway will be swept into the dustbin of history. For now, enjoy the silence. Whether you sigh with relief or sigh with disappointment, at least you can hear yourself sigh.