The current morning ritual in my house goes something like this:

Me: (Reading the newspaper) “Oh my God…oh no....OH MY GOD!”

My Wife: “Trump?”

Me: “Trump.”

She doesn’t seem all too concerned.

“Freaking out doesn’t solve the problem,” she said.

As I read the paper, all of my political fears come bubbling up. Will one of his tweets crash the financial markets? Will he start a war with Russia? Will he start rounding up Mexicans and Muslims to put in concentration camps?

My mind does love to play out all of these scenarios just like an apocalyptic movie. And then I catch myself. The sun will still rise tomorrow. The birds will still be singing in the trees. There are still no zombies walking up the street.