I see you standing on that chair waving your arms about as if you were a windmill, screaming at full volume. You want this so bad you can taste it, right? Right? Wrong.
I need to start sending Murphy birthday cards, presents, build an altar--something. Murphy who? You know...Murphy. The famous one. That Murphy. Of Murphy's Law fame. The man loves me. Or maybe he hates me and has put a curse on me. I can't tell. All I know is that he and I do a lot together. Too much. Hasn't he ever heard of absence makes the heart grow fonder?
Jury duty. Grand jury duty. For a whole month. And no, they do not let you out of it if you write them a letter explaining what a hardship it will be for you, the plans you have that it will ruin, the impact on your boss' business. Not anymore. Yeah, if you're over 70, sole caregiver to small children for whom you cannot afford daycare or not a US citizen.
Did I need this a month before travel? Did I? When I need the income the most? And, I'm sorry, the puny $10 a day compensation really stinks (of which the municipal parking lot eats half and the burger joint the other half. So they may as well save a dime by not paying at all since they're getting it back anyway.) I understand they don't want jurors to be in it for the money. But seriously, the guy at the freeway on ramp makes more in an hour! It feels like my life will be held hostage. And the adoption. And the people I'm contracted to serve who won't get their services because I'm not there to help them.
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