What????!!!!!!!

I don't know how much longer I can keep up my pretense of optimism. If there's a last straw I think I just got it . . . in the mail. Yes, the unspeakable has happened. My little, gimpy injured self has been called to JURY DUTY! Oneida County, I hate you, yes hate you! How could you do this to me? Don't you realize that if I sit on one of those benches for more than ten minutes I'll be in so much pain that I'll want to give whoever is on trial the death penalty, even if it's just for a bar fight or too many traffic tickets? Don't you realize that I'll be so crazed with pain that I won't even care that NY doesn't have the death penalty, and I'll still be holding out for it, writing "DEATH" over and over on those little slips of paper until someone hauls me off to the Marcy Psych Center? Didn't you get it when I filled out the form and listed "college professor" as my occupation that there's no "sub list" I can draw from to keep my students on the road to their education? Maybe I should take all 45 of them with me and say I'm doing a social justice theme for my classes. Ha! That'd show them.

But seriously, the irony of all this is that I got the summons after this morning's drive home from Daryl's house. On the way I experienced a moment of great joy, as I like to call them. They've been few and far between since I hurt my back, but there it was. As I rounded a bend on the Brimfield Road, I got a really good view of all the golden, orange, and even crimson foliage that makes this place I live in so glorious. It filled me with joy. I cried a little. I love that feeling. Too bad Oneida County had to ruin it with "you are required to call every night after 10/24" and no mention of an end date. And that "Thank you for your time and commitment to the New York State Jury System" statement at the bottom of the notice is just like salt in the wound.

Normally I love the workings of the criminal justice system, but I noticed there wasn't a box to check for "right now isn't really a good time," so I guess I'll have to either get a note from my doctor, or show up with my MRI slides pinned to my shirt. Man, life is just too complicated sometimes.