Rent raisin' and jury duty.

Before I get to Part 2 of my New Orleans recap, I had to tell everybody what atrocities I received in the mail yesterday. There were two offenders and I just don't even know what to think.

1. Our rent was raised. Eh, this I can deal with like a kick in the pants: maybe it'll bruise a little, but eventually I'll forget all about it.

2. A summons for jury duty. This being Washington, DC and like clockwork every two years I expect it. However, my summons was not the ordinary kind... Oh, no, I've never been privileged to have the ordinary summons. (Last time I was selected for a three week trial about a previously convicted felon with a weapon and I had nightmares for a month. No details, I'm sorry. It scares me.)
This summons is for jury selection in which they make no bones about telling me, "if selected this trial will take at least 14 weeks after the selection process". Oh. Sweet. Jehoshaphat. AT LEAST FOURTEEN WEEKS? After the selection, that would leave THE REST OF THE YEAR. The summons does say if chosen you get some time off at the holidays.

Don't get me wrong; I've always loved the idea of Jury Duty. It is our right as citizens to a fair and speedy (what about 14 weeks is speedy?) trial and a trial by our peers. The process is part of what makes our country great, and I am like a bee to honey about The Process. I am just terrified it is some gruesome, scary, Law & Order type mess. If that is true, then I will Never. Ever. Sleep. Again.
You'll know where to find me, though. I'll be hiding in the bathtub with a baseball bat.