But she seems decidedly in the minority.
Even those whose job it is to get out the vote are reaching breaking point.
"I'm sick of all the calls, too," said an exhausted looking Julie Smythe at Republican headquarters in Columbus last week as she handed out stickers and lawn signs to the steady trickle of supporters filing through the door. The 57-year-old receptionist said she's even had people from her own party threaten her. "They say, 'If I get one more piece of paper or one more call, I am going to sue,'" she said with a sigh." Or "'I'm not going to vote.'"
Smythe has also seen a steady stream of supporters from elsewhere show up eager for the excitement of helping out in a battleground state. "They are just astonished at what we Ohioans go through," she said.
They are equally astonished by the negativity of the ads, which many Ohioans say has reached a new low this election, mainly because of the ability of anonymous groups to fund them. Among the groups pumping millions of dollars into the state: American Crossroads, a Republican-leaning super PAC with ties to President George W. Bush's political counselor Karl Rove; Restore Our Future, founded by former Romney aides; and Priorities USA Action, a pro-Obama group.
"It's disgusting. You can't even relax and watch YouTube without these voices, these entities, yelling at you and we don't even know who they are," said Krista Brown, of Circleville, a small town about 30 miles south of Columbus, famous for its annual pumpkin festival. The 20-year-old waitress said the negativity had cost both parties her vote.
"I'm just out of high school where we were taught not to say unkind things, to be civil," she said. "I feel like they are bullying us and each other."
At Carl's Townhouse in Chillicothe, Phyllis Barnhart also lamented all the money being raised "just to stab each other in the back." The 75-year-old retired waitress and her 82-year-old husband, Clarence, who are both on Social Security, sit at the same table every day and spend exactly $13.29 for their 1 p.m. feast of soup and double cheeseburger — their only meal of the day. Then they return to their apartment in a senior housing complex to watch their favorite soaps. While they love the food at Carl's, they simply can't afford to occasionally treat themselves to somewhere more expensive.
"We get paid once a month and we have to make every penny count," she said. "The candidates, they just don't understand folks like us."
She is also baffled by — and a bit suspicious of — early voting, which Ohio allows. In fact, many voters say they are voting early for one reason only: to get the attack ads to stop. It only makes them madder when the ads keep coming.
For some, the election season onslaught is a boon — television and radio stations, printing companies, even the harried postal carrier weighed down by more than 10 times the normal volume of mail.
"All mail is good mail," Rob Arnold, of Ashville, chanted cheerfully over the phone as he took a break from his job in Columbus, where he is thrilled by the overtime he is earning sorting political fliers. He and his colleagues even have fun sharing the more outrageous ones: He described a fantasy-land picture of the president standing in an otherworldly ocean with pink flamingos and a smiling moon in the background.
"It's hilarious," he said, laughing. "But why on earth would it sway anyone's vote?"
(One of the regulars at the Sunbury Grill, Larry Lambert, said he got so disgusted by the "propaganda" being stuffed into his mailbox that he tried to make a deal with the local postmaster: $100 to be spared all political fliers. He was unsuccessful.)
Humor is also how barber Tommy Checkler deals with election madness in his self-described "man cave" in Worthington, an upscale suburb of Columbus. Surrounded by football and hunting memorabilia, Checkler, 52, owner of The Old Village Barber Shop, mocks the television as he finishes a $16 buzz cut on customer Tim Potts.
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