It's the last day of November and I'm starting to get tight in the chest whenever I think about going back to work. I hate that I do this – that I ruin a happy time by being anxious about what comes next – but I'm rarely able to stop myself. My goal for this year is to remain drug-free, which also means that I need to do some chilling out if I want to avoid the anti-anxiety pills this time around.

Maybe this will be the year that things won't suck. I'm sure that it'll be at least tolerable – my first semester of teaching was the worst; I was reasonably okay in the semesters which followed. And I won't know how bad it will be until I plunge back into the thick of it. At least I won't have very much lesson prep this time around. Faint hope.

Even if I flame out at teaching, even if I never teach again after this year, I'll always have Blake & the Boy to welcome me home. No job, even the fabled shittiest job in the world, can take that away from me.

Say it with me: It'll be fine. It'll be fine. It'll be fine.

I was called in for jury duty yesterday. I've never been so exhausted by so little activity – this even put my days in university res to shame. First I waited outside in a line to go through the metal detectors. That took about a half-hour. Then I sat in a waiting room not unlike an airport terminal for two and a half hours. I spent this time reading most of Robin McKinley's Spindle's End, which I picked up on a lark but have very thoroughly enjoyed (crazy animal nursing, oh my!). At twenty to one we were ushered into a courtroom to hear about the current case (cocaine importation) and given instructions as to the rest of our day. After the instructions came The Calling of the Weasels, in which potential jurors were invited to come up and explain why they were too disabled/important/stupid to serve on a jury this week. That took an hour but it was fascinating people-watching: the "who's lying" game is an absorbing one.

When we were let go for lunch, I set off in search of horrible greasy fare the likes of which I hardly ever want, let alone eat. Instead I ended up at Booster Juice (I'm a sucker for the smoothie) and a restaurant called Vita Pita where I ate the best falafel of my life. The proprietor not only encouraged me to try yummy new toppings, but he also came over with a huge grin & a small cup of free home-made lentil soup. By the time I started my walk back to the courtroom, I was giddy with good wholesome foods – so much better than leaving a trail of grease behind me as I slid back to do my civic duty.

In the afternoon I was selected for the first panel, bored senseless, and then released when I was challenged (without cause) by one of the defence attorneys. The Boy thinks I was challenged because one of the defence attorneys referred to me as 'sir' when she began her question. (Her partner started hissing 'ma'am!' 'ma'am!' until she stopped, looked up, and I gave her a sarcastic little wave.) I thought it was funny, but I guess some people might be offended. I guess. If it gets me out of a week of mind-numbing jury duty, so much the better.

- 0 comments/hedgehogs -

- Rocketbride's adventure of 11/30/2004 08:50:00 p.m.