December 2, 2019. Christmas a mere 3 weeks away. I can barely afford my own lavish dollar store lifestyle, and now it’s  giving season. (And now everyone knows where their gift is coming from.)

As if Santa himself received a briefing on my shitty attitude toward goodness and normalcy this past year, I receive the only punishment fitting for such an offense; the dreaded jury summons.

Civic duty? Sure. Day I can afford to waste time, having my ability to assess data tested? Nah.  Also, I’m far too shallow at this point to wrap my brain around someone else’s drama. Aren’t there unemployed people out there that have time for this? How about retired folks? Why do employed folks get stuck with this? A jury of the defendant’s peers you say? Interesting. (Chances are, employed folks likely NOT the defendant’s “peer” in this county.)

Here’s to hoping that our Christmas wishes are granted. Raise your voice for the injustice of having to assist in delivering justice. Raise your straight, unwrinkled dollar bills, crossing fingers that the vending machine in court building is fully stocked when your blood sugar plummets late morning.

And most of all, I can’t wait to see if my prosthetic hips light up security like a Christmas tree. Sometimes they set off metal detectors, sometimes they don’t. I have a card with surgeon’s name, manufacturers serial number, etc.  Still it is a hassle to explain, especially when you don’t want to be there to begin with.

Regardless of how much this positively sucks, I should be grateful for having a day to draw different perspective from different types of people. Maybe that is the hidden gift here. 🎁 🎄