A few days ago, my mom called to tell me that I had received some mail that I wasn't going to be really happy about. Naturally, I assumed it had something to do with my student loans. It didn't.
The offending piece of mail was a slip of paper from the Shelby County sheriff, requesting the honor of my presence at the convention center for jury selection. I have to go on the 12th, and I've been told that from there, I'll look at a calendar and pick the week that I actually want to serve.
I've never had jury duty before, and - call me a freak- I'm actually kind of excited about it. Then again, I'm the sort of girl who has the constitution (in it's entirety) in her iPod. Part of me is kind of hoping I get called. If I do, I hope it's for something minor - I don't think I'd do well with being sequestered.
Anyway - I think the jury room has wi-fi. If it does, I'll be live blogging the experience. Live blogging is kind of a lame concept. It's really meant for more exciting situations than jury duty, but I think it'll be alright. I'm working on setting up some "No Formal Training" style projects right now, but I don't want to share them just yet.
I'd better get off here and get to the Sunday Ritual. My mom got me a subscription to the New York Times for my birthday, and I'm way too excited about the fact that it comes to my house now. I may never go to the coffee shop again.
ritualized,
Kerry
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3 comments:
I heard on the radio that they just passed a law in Tennessee that allows drinking the day of jury duty. So, you should be drunk there.
So, you chose to not join the breakfast bunch because of the New York Times? Good choice I'm sure.
I must say, I feel like I'm reading "Sex in the Southern City" sometimes when I read your posts and I love it. Keep rocking it!
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