I got the dreaded jury summons notice today.
Why is it that some people can go most of their lives without being called for jury duty, while some of us are summoned every other stinkin’ year?! It’s gotten ridiculous to the point where I almost fear each ‘odd’ year, knowing that at some point I am going to receive one of those envelopes from the county courts.
It’s not that I’m against jury service; in fact, at one point in life I loved the idea of being on the dispensing end of justice for a change. You see, I used to run afoul of the traffic laws on a rather frequent basis, and I found myself in front of judges more times than I care to admit. So when my turn came to serve on a DUI case, I couldn’t help but get a kick out of it. And I didn’t feel one bit sorry for the defendant, a little blonde chick who kept smiling and winking at us during the brief trial as if to say “Oh, you wouldn’t convict me, I’m too cute for that”. Um, yeah, we would, and yeah, we did.
But other than that one time when I actually got to BE on a jury, I don’t particularly enjoy sitting in a little room all day drinking bad coffee, avoiding small talk with the other prospective jurors and trying to stay awake. Not only that, I’m too easily distracted to occupy myself with a book, and both my tablet and my smartphone run out of juice too quickly to last an entire day…….and snoring is generally considered bad form, even BEFORE being seated in the jury box.
Fortunately (at least where this is concerned) I’ve got a get-out-of-jury-duty-for-life card: my mental illness. It’s one of the few things that can excuse a would-be juror from serving, and you can bet your ass, your cowboy hat, and your house cat that I’m gonna use it. And why not? If you were on trial for your life, would you want a certifiably “crazy” person to help decide your fate? Me neither.
We’ll see how it flies with the jury manager, anyway. They might make me get a letter to prove I’m certifiable, but that shouldn’t be too difficult, even for someone whose psychiatrist is ex-military and has a low tolerance for bullshit.
Speaking of the devil (just kidding!), I discovered a GREAT trick to play on him at my next appointment. Last night while Will and I were at Target, we ran across these color-coordinated kitchen appliances that were, um, interesting—they were decorated in a bright, multicolored chevron pattern that looked like something you’d find in a 80% off fabric sale. In Tijuana. On the bad side of town.
In other words, they were hideous. Even the infamous yellow toucan shirt isn’t as tacky as these appliances. That’s when I got the brilliant idea to snap a photo of the toaster and show it to him at my next appointment, then tell him I bought the thing for my kitchen. The look on his face will be well worth the wrath I’m sure I’ll face when he finds out I’m joking. 😉