Saturday, March 10, 2018

jury duty and tweakers

I was summoned for jury duty last summer. I finally had to do it this month. In Yamhill County the service commitment is for a month. I have to check in four times a week to see if my juror number is up. 78. It was. So I rescheduled all of my meetings. I am a very busy woman, you know. They called numbers one through ninety. I'd guess about fifty of us showed up. Of that 50, the first 18 were seated for voir dire. As a Grisham fan, I was thrilled at the opportunity to be in the room for this part. It was an all white jury for a black defendant. A black man accused of impersonating a police officer. In Yamhill County. Now, if you know my lilywhite neighborhood, you'd know, first, that a black officer would stand out like a sore thumb. It would be a fool's errand to try. So we have a fool at best. Guilty? I don't know. Maybe it was Halloween. Anyhow, I didn't get to the box. The judge empaneled his twelve from that group of eighteen. But there is hope yet! I still have to call in for the remainder of March. That was Thursday. Friday morning I woke up to find my work laptop had been stolen out of my(unlocked) car. Feckin' tweakers. It is a strange feeling to be robbed. I did the same thing when my whole truck was stolen several -- many -- years ago. I kept looking for it. As though I would somehow misplace a whole truck. Friday morning I kept opening each area of the vehicle, certain it must be there and I just missed it. It wasn't. I called work to see if it was in my office, if I'd forgotten it entirely. Nope. I finally gave in and called the Yamhill police. Andy and Barney. They told me the whole neighborhood had been hit. The thing is, there were four years of thinking on that machine. Four years of my brain. Was a time when I printed everything anyway -- didn't trust the magic of the computer to keep forever safe the nuggets that occasionally find their way to my fingers. Lots of work. I am crushed. Which I just now typed as cursed. Maybe.

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