One of the things I like about being an elder Goth is the fact that I don’t feel that I have to act my age all the time.
True, there are the occasions that just scream out to all and sundry… Be a Grownup! Act Adult! Don’t Mess Around!
Of course this is a challenge to anyone like me.
I can be the sensible grown up. Acting my age with grace and decorum.
But ‘Tell’ me that I must do so and bells and whistles go off in my head and trouble is sure to follow.
I get all silly and stupid. I fidget and make noise. I drop things and bump into things.
None of these things I do on purpose. In fact I’m trying hard to control myself. But this rebellious streak just comes charging to the surface. And try as I might I just can’t pull this demon all the way back into the box.
And this was the case this week. I was called to Jury Duty. The Summon arrived in the mail weeks before and I arrived on time with my best grown up face on. I sat and listened to the instructions, I quietly knit as I waited my turn to be called. People around me started to chat with their neighbors about things of no importance. (There was a lot of waiting to get through.)
When I was called to my group I sat with hands folded in my lap and didn’t fidget. Even thou it was late in the day and many others had reached their limit. I didn’t make the final cut so was asked to come back the next day for the other trials yet to be called for.
On the second day people were much friendlier, talk was louder and more jovial. But there was also the feeling of ‘lets get this thing going so we can get back to our own lives again.’
Someone in a near group was trying to hush said group for an announcement that was trying to be given to the room. And I heard it…
“Time to settle down and act like adults again.”
It hit me like a shot. I started to giggle. For no reason I could comprehend. While I tried to stifle myself my knitting tumbled to the floor. While I tried to collect my knitting I bumped the chair in front of me. While I was quietly apologizing to the glaring face in front of me I started to hiccup. And now I am the center of attention of the room as I’m asked to get my act together so the rest of the room can hear the message and commence with the day.
It went down hill from there. I spilled my juice from my boxed lunch. I accidentally flicked one of my knitting needles out of my knitting and into the next row. (Not the thing to do by the way, when officers with guns are trained to watch for mayhem and stop it before harm can come to anyone under their care.)
My disruptiveness got other troublemakers into the mood. Small disruptions erupted around the room after that. I couldn’t wait to get this over with and go home.
Thankfully I didn’t get called to sit at a trial. But being the start of all the unpleasantries of the day I had to stay after and be corrected. For the next time I’m called on to serve.
At this point I’m just glad that I have three years before that can happen again. And three years to practice being a grown up after hearing a reprimand. Or at least discover why this happens to me so I can try to fix it.
But I don't think that they will be allowing knitting needle into the court house any longer. A sad mark upon the world.
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1 comment:
Oh my, what a truly enjoyable post, although I'm sure you didn't enjoy the experience at the time! I could totally feel your frustration, as well as the underlying humor. If I'd been there, I'm sure we would have struck up a conversation as I retrieved your needle and helped you clean up the juice. :-)
I live in California, and we usually get called EVERY year, so you are very lucky to only get stuck every third year. And no, knitting needles are no longer allowed (neither are crochet hooks, unfortunately). I'm not sure WHAT we are allowed to bring or do anymore, other than read books, and I'm sure they must be paperbacks, so we can't stab someone with a hardback's corner! ;-)
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