Thursday, November 20, 2008
It is 0830 hrs. ESPN2, Mike and Mike Morning Show is talking to me from the TV Set twenty feet away, off in the corner of the living room. Here in the office corner of the dining area, I’m laid back in the semi-important middle managers office chair I purchased years ago to satisfy a hate red I had developed for the worker bee cubical chairs.
And I’m bushed. Someone dragged my butt, backwards, through a knot hole. My fur’s been stroked against the grain and not petted smooth. I’m grumpy, but too tired to work up spit. The arrival of the email notifying me of tonight’s NFL game on the NFL channel was no surprise, of little interest; Go Bengals. Go, Steelers(?). Yea.
We tied up the case to which I was a juror. Notice the past tense. It’s done, it’s over. Well, it is done and it is over for this jury. I don’t believe I’ve met a more diverse, happy, sad, morose, intelligent, dumb, young, old, double sexed group of people in such a small room filled with eleven other beings. Not counting the bailiff and the huge basket of mixed candies, an eleven foot steel table, twelve chairs, book case, water cooler with five gallon water jug atop, two doors for the jakes (him and hers), and, least I forget twelve attitudes.
My reality suddenly narrowed to this small group for two complete days, and I developed a headache.
Yes. There. Yes, with your thumbs. Rub. Gently. Oh, God. Gently, please. Sigh. Yeah. There. That’s good. Fine. Ohh.
A day or two of rest and I’ll be good as new.