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FUNK.

2007-06-24
11:21 p.m.

Loki-katt, I knew you meant chief chef in your comment, but chief chief is actually closer to what Oldest Son tries to be around here. In fact, I often have to remind both boys, but especially Youngest Son, that the job of dictator? Is taken. No vacancies expected.

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I've been working on guilty pleas pretty steadily for about three weeks, and I'm about ready to pull my hair out, piece by piece, root by root.

My judge is an affable fellow. Thinks he knows everyone and everyone knows him. Or at least he tries to make sure they do, by mentioning all kinds of names in the record. Names that, not being from this area, I DON'T know and have to spend hours in the phone book looking for when they don't have one damn thing to do with the actual guilty plea.

He also, just like my husband, is pretty sure he is thisclose to being a doctor...at least a psychiatrist, anyway. He loves to offer up guesses at what psyciatric meds some defendants are on -- all on the record, of course.

He really needs to do a little web surfing and learn the current meds, though, because he rarely gets a "hit" on one of his guesses. Seems maybe he only learned the ones that were popular while he was in law school.

Small guilty pleas, average of 12 or 13 pages each, are taking far too long to produce. I suspect m-lewis and cinzel will probably feel my frustration more than anyone else. In fact, Cinzel is probably about dizzy from nodding her head in agreement with my gripes. And then planning to not answer her phone, lest I smear my foul humor all over her sunny day. Can't say that I blame her.

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Today Hubby took the kids to the local water slide for a few hours while I worked. I was concerned about Hubby being out there for so long when it was so hot, so at 4:00 I called and offered to swap with him. There's plenty of sheltered tables at the slide, and I knew I could sit and proofread (and sweat) in the shade and occasionally look up to see one of my offspring go flying down the slide.

As usual, no good deed goes unpunished. Apparently that fat stack of papers looked fascinating, because the lady at the next table asked me if I was grading papers. Well, my judge has been taking some heat in the local press recently, and I didn't want to tell her exactly what I was doing for fear she'd ask me where I work and then I'd have to defend him or listen to how unfairly he is being treated or whatEVER.

So instead I changed the subject to our kids and what fun they were having. And then it was all over. She talked to me for an hour. Yes, she was very friendly, but I needed to do some proofreading. I finally rounded up the kids and came home much earlier than planned, smiling and waving as I left.

And now I'm still proofreading at home. Can y'all tell I'm in a f*u*n*k? Me, too.

Tomorrow I'll turn in this nice pile of work and sit back and expect a fat check and it will all be better. Money, the balm to soothe the savage funk.

Over and out.


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