Last night at 2am, while Katsumi was knee-deep in a work-related all-nighter, I conscientiously set my alarm for 6:35. I had jury duty at 8, planned to take public transportation, and I didn’t want to be late. So it was with no small amount of displeasure that I awoke at 7:24, with no time even to wash my face before running out the door. Katsumi had the misfortune of walking past the bed as my eyes fluttered open, awake since God knows when, all the while letting me oversleep, and if words could kill, let’s just say he’d be dead now. For sure.
En route to the courthouse in downtown Boston, I made three wrong turns, poked myself in the eye with the mascara wand, and sideswiped a bus. I bought a coffee before waiting in line for juror check-in, only to get to the door and find out “no beverage in the jury pool”, I had my computer with 5 days of Itunes but my earbuds were on the nightstand, I had work to do but I’d left my glasses at home, and my fucking COFFEE was in the HALLWAY on the FLOOR. Making matters worse, something smelled awful. Like… day-old Italian takeout and sweat. Oh wait. The smell was my SHIRT. The shirt that I PULLED OUT OF THE DIRTY LAUNDRY before NOT WASHING MY FACE.
I sat in misery under the flourescent lights, cursing my husband and stewing in my own stink, until the “welcome to juror hell” video came on. You know the one, Massachusetts people. There’s that old lady judge with the speech impediment, then some lawyer chick whose hair screams “THIS WAS SUPER HOT IN NINETEEN-EIGHTY-FOUR”, then some attorney dude with 50’s glasses, and then they thank you like eleven times for your service, and the whole time you’re just like, oh lord please. please. make it stop.
We had a break from 9:30 to 10, during which I chugged 3 shots of Starbucks swill, bought the Times, smoked a cigarette, almost threw up from my shirt odor, and, back inside, was in the fifth group called up for screening. The trial was set to start Monday, and last through end-of-week at a minimum. It was clear from the case summary that I had a bias and couldn’t serve, but the nail in the coffin was our flight to LA next Wednesday. Katsu and I are going to the West coast to celebrate one year of wedded bliss… and my not killing him. Because I would have. This morning.
It was almost 1pm before I was excused, and after being thanked once more for my “service” (aka, not showering, reeking of old meat sauce, general bad attitude), I fled the courthouse. Only to find that I’d left my keys by the metal detector, BECAUSE I AM AWESOME.
I decided to treat myself to lunch and a beer at the Kinsale. The booze went straight to my head as I scammed free public wireless, which was probably a good thing, since my 5 hours of parking had cost me THIRTY EIGHT DOLLARS. Dude LIKE WTF, SERIOUSLY. The best part is: $38 is the maximum rate. AND IT KICKS IN AFTER EIGHTY MINUTES. So like, if I were in jury duty, and I stood around for an hour and a half? And then I DID actually puke from the smell of my clothes and need to leave? I STILL WOULD HAVE PAID THIRTY EIGHT DOLLARS. Can you believe that?? Because I really can’t. Still.
I stopped by the apartment, washed my face, changed OUT of that wretched shirt, gave my husband the cold shoulder, and went to work. I was very, very tired. In fairness, when I got home, so was my husband.
So I bring in the mail tonight, 9pm, super exhausted, and what do I find?
What, indeed, but… A JURY SUMMONS FOR KATSUMI.
I feel like I have my very own laugh track.