Now that everyone has rinsed the ruby rims of election night wine goblets, swished the crimson stains from their tongues, popped a scarlet extra-strength Tylenol and stepped into the azure light of day, let's talk color theory.

Maybe Florida hasn't turned fully purple like the old days, not yet. But the state has swung closer to grape territory than any time in recent memory, certainly since Florida's COVID-19-era migration that helped stockpile the state's 1.5 million registered Republicans.

Across most of the country, it's electric blue skies. Outgoing Gov. Ron DeSantis, who appears to have taken a muscle relaxer and donned checkerboard Vans to kick off his senioritis, classified Tuesday's national results as a mess for his party: an "extinction-level event."

"To call it a wave I don't think would be fully accurate," he said. "It's the political equivalent of a meteor strike. This is probably the political worst-case scenario for a midterm election."

Though Governor-elect Byron Donalds proclaimed Florida "still red," Florida did not escape the splash zone. On the contrary, Democrats made significant inroads toward turning the state a deep plum.

In the Florida Legislature, Democrats flipped 17 seats — 16 in the House and one in the Senate; one more seat is headed for a recount. This wrecks the Republican supermajority that rolled out a cherry-red carpet for such gems as a six-week abortion ban and odious measures targeting immigrants.

And even in the face of the GOP-led Legislature's human centipede-style redistricting of congressional maps, the resulting picture wasn't rosy. All four of Florida's threatened Democratic U.S. House seats stayed locked in.

You know, there were signs that Floridians, so often mocked and stereotyped, had actual free-thinking brains inside their skulls. Back in August's primaries, national TV pundits squinted curiously as voters selected both Rep. Angie Nixon, a deeply underfunded candidate aligned with democratic socialists, and Jolly, a Republican-turned-moderate Democrat, to run in the general.

While neither ultimately won, they did not embarrass themselves in the least. For comparison, St. Petersburg Mayor-elect Charlie Crist lost to DeSantis in 2022's gubernatorial race by a staggering 19%. In official terms, we call that a shellacking. On Tuesday, Jolly lost to Donalds by less than 2%. Nixon came within three points of Republican Sen. Ashley Moody despite a conspicuous dearth of support from national party funders. Almost every voting demographic moved left in this race compared to two years ago. Imagine if Nixon had the scaffolding of Texas Democrat James Talarico.

Clearly, it's time to touch up Florida's paint job. Conditions have shifted away from bloody, dripping, fire-engine red toward maroon or sangria, maybe boysenberry with a touch of magenta, perhaps burgundy or orchid.

But what does a Home Depot paint swatch mean in practicality? Well, it means the people of Florida are watching. That they are not hapless beach seagulls who will sit by and suck margaritas while leadership puts proverbial kittens in blenders. It means this anointed crop of leaders, many returning for more fun, cannot simply do whatever tickles their biscuits and expect to get away with it forever.

It means if these narrowly elected leaders want to play fast and loose with public lands and the precious environment, if they want to launder taxpayer funds from the needy to win cheap political contests, if they want to abuse and dehumanize immigrants, if they want to deal in schemes that enrich business cronies, voters are watching.

It means Florida is not such an easy mark for a cult of personality. It means many Floridians also share the country's wild disillusionment brought about by President Donald Trump's empty game show platitudes.

And it means these officeholders will need to actually keep their promises. It means we should expect Donalds, for one, to follow through on what he has avowed.

Write these down, take a screenshot, whatever:

Donalds has promised to bring down both healthcare and insurance premiums. He's promised to keep data centers' electricity costs off the backs of regular people. He's promised to let local governments decide data center permitting and zoning without the state interfering. He's promised to recuse himself from any conflicts of interest related to his wife's wildly profitable business dealings in charter schools.

Amid his victory lap Tuesday, he promised to lower living costs, make housing more affordable and protect agricultural lands, water and the environment. He promised not to tolerate bigotry, to "build the economy to heights never even thought," to make Florida a "top 10 global economy." He promised transparency and civility with journalists, the proxy for the people. He promised to "govern effectively for all of Florida," not just his supporters.

As the country kicks off a boldly blue political era, Florida is the red exception. Everyone will be watching to see what we do down here. And all 23.5 million of us who call this marvelous, complicated place home will be watching, too. We'll hold our breath and check in on these promises, even if our faces turn a little purple.

Stephanie Hayes is a columnist at the Tampa Bay Times in Florida. Follow her at @stephrhayes on Instagram.

Photo credit: Denys Kostyuchenko at Unsplash