Do They Arrest You If You Don't Show Up?

The room was hot, then cold, then too cold.  My back started hurting not ten minutes into the thing and I wished I'd brought a better book.  (The current one is starting to feel trite and cliche.  I won't tell you which one because I don't have the energy to back myself up.)

I read a Cosmo. 

I doodled.

I wrote some bad poetry.

It was also Teal Day but I didn't get the memo.  Flaming, outrageous teal with bright obnoxious purses and over-processed hair.

I'm not sure I own anything teal, anyway.  My wardrobe is getting blacker by the minute.

And I think I dislike people more and more each day.  Not you, of course, but everybody else. 

I did, however, enjoy wearing my fancy Banana "work" pants that I haven't worn since the last day of my last job.  I thought I'd be busting out of them by now but it turns out they were looser than before (boo-yah).  All my cheese eating, wine sipping, weekend bendering and chocolate gorging is paying off, it seems.

Oh wait!  I stopped in on the girlies from my old job, too.  I figured it'd be douchey to be right next door and not pop in . . . But not without trying to go undetected.  I sneaked (I first typed "snuck" but the red line tells me it's not a word.  "Snuck" really isn't a word?  When did that happen??) in the back door and startled dear KT right out of her fantastic cobalt blue cardigan and black skinny pants. 

MG and Ula are sooooo pregnant.  They let me touch their bellies and gush at how pretty they are.  I imagine they're probably tired of hearing about how big they're getting.  Yeah?  I have an entire person in my guts, lying in a hammock on top of my bladder?  That's why I feel so huge?

The worst part of my day was probably when I thought I was about to go home but then got called for a last-minute late afternoon trial.  No wait, that wasn't the worst part.  Mildly disappointing, yes, but the worst worst part was when they crammed thirty something potential jurors into a very compact courtroom and then the man next to me start burping up his lunch and then blowing it on me.  Six times I almost ralphed.

Damn right I counted.

He turned out to be really nice and I enjoyed the short blurb he gave about himself, but that does not excuse such behavior.  I would rather not smell AND taste the contents of your stomach, hot and half digested, burning with acid. 

I left after that, hot and headachy, and treated myself to a mini shopping spree where I spent a whopping $31 on clothes and got a brisk four-mile walk in.  Oh, and I ate some sushi too.  And bought more chocolate for my daily recommended dose.