When the cool, colorful fall days allow, I make a point of getting out for walks with friends. I love the fresh breezes, and the fresh perspectives of my friends. In the last few weeks, no matter how many other things there are to discuss, our conversations have inevitably veered toward politics.

One friend, I think in exasperation, recently commented that I have allowed our current president to move into my head rent-free. Hmm, it’s true. Think of that. He’s a real estate mogul with an uncanny ability to take up residence in my head! Perhaps I can say that his genius lies in the fact that it has been almost impossible for me to evict him.

And I’m not the only one. Many Democrats and independents, and more than a few Republicans, are in a similar situation. Like the free air time he has leveraged for himself from the media ever since 2016, his cruel antics, lies, and chaotic style dominate the airwaves and our collective psyche. It requires a superhuman effort to turn away.

The unruly tenant in my head has been trashing my attempts to focus my thoughts constructively. It has been as effective as his trashing of the concepts that the role of the president is to listen to The People, and the role of government is to work for The People. I’ve had to find ways to soothe my anxiety over his unwelcome destructiveness – taking brisk walks, for example, or cooking up a storm (even if, in the time of COVID, I can only stick it in the freezer, against the time we can finally welcome people into our house again). But the thing that has helped me the most is joining with other reluctant “landlords” to do everything in our power to throw our tenant out, no matter how vehemently he promises to stay.

I have to admit that I much prefer door-to-door canvassing to sitting at home making calls to voters. Seeing people face to face is as therapeutic as getting out in the fresh air, and I want to think that it is more effective than the phone banking I’m doing. But it’s one of the few tools we are left with during the pandemic, and I’m bound to make the most of it.

As someone who carried a beeper for work for more than 40 years, I am conditioned to picking up the phone promptly and without question. My kids, however, tell me that they rarely answer their phones unless they recognize the caller ID. What I have learned during my time of phone banking is that most people are far more like my kids than they are like me. But that’s okay. When I do reach someone willing to talk for a minute I feel like I have entered the penthouse apartment.

I do know much better than to trust my personal anecdotal experience over properly designed and controlled studies, but I am indulging in my personal experience trying to talk to voters to conclude that there are two kinds of people out there. There are those like me who are desperate to evict their unlawful tenant, and there are those who are somehow able to overlook his presence altogether or to content themselves with the notion that he came to disrupt, and he has done exactly that, so at least he’s true to that promise.

The election is in just a couple of weeks, even if it feels like it will never get here. I am hoping with every ounce of my being that the people who see our Real-Estate-Mogul-in-Chief for the thief of democracy that he is will rise and say so. And if I’ve added one more vote to help tip the scales toward eviction I’ll count it as success.

(Millie LaFontaine of Concord is a retired neurologist.)