The pen is still mightier

A summons for jury duty awaited me in my mailbox once I finally came home around 9:45 p.m. after a 9-hour day working and 1.5 hours on the treadmill two weeks ago. At first, I was hopeful that I might be my husband’s turn to perform his civic duty, but there it was, my name written in all capital letters. Again.

He hasn’t been summoned for jury duty, yet. I’ve been summoned more for jury duty the last three years than I have been in my entire life. I’ve hit the jury duty jackpot. If only it was monetary.

I breezed into Judge Drum’s courtroom for jury selection around 8:30 a.m. this week, and had the misfortune to sit behind someone who literally was telling his life story to the poor lady next to him. We were all exasperated with his relentless chatter, the bolder of us heaved some sighs his way and threw some dirty looks. He never had a clue. I brought a book to read since this was not my first time in jury selection, and I kept reading the same page over and over, the man’s voice infiltrating into my thoughts until reading was out of the question. I was sorely aggrieved. 

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