In recovery you’re told that your first thought is wrong. Case in point: a while back my collarbone broke in three separate places. First thought: How long ‘till I can get this guy to bump my Percocet Rx to OxyContin. Second thought: 6 months to heal? That’s a 9-month prescription. Third thought: How soon is to soon when it comes to re breaking a bo--…did he just say surgery?... Jackpot! Dilaudid! Clearly this isn’t the worst thing to ever happen.
Fast-forward three years and although clean, my entire thought process is still pretty skewed. It’s not that I’m intentionally selfish, self righteous, self-absorbed, egotistical, self-seeking and smug. I mean, I AM all those things, but more importantly it’s my entire thought process that’s fucked—not just my entity, and therefore it’s something I find very difficult- if not impossible to control.
This brings me to my moral dilemma of the day. Jury Duty. I got summonsed not to long ago and it is “imperative that I appear in court tomorrow morning by 8:30am.” I originally planned to not even show. It wasn’t my fault they mailed the form to my parents house instead of my own. For all they know my parents washed their hands of me years ago for all the shit I’ve put them through (which by the grace of God they haven’t. So thanks Mom). But then I got to thinking…
They INVITED me to court; I got an invitation and everything! Every other time I was there it was by my own doing. I even had to ask the judge for permission to leave. It would be rude to not show up. Besides, I get a couple of hours to catch up on some reading and a free lunch. I decided to go with this plan. I was going to be the very best candidate for the job. I’ll probably get picked since I can be pretty much anything you want me to be and maybe I’ll even get fought over by the two lawyers. I’ll leave with a few new friends and a new high paying job ($40 a day is more than $0.). Christopher will be so pleased! I could totally make a career out of this!
Alas, things are never that simple. Just when I got my hopes up about becoming the world’s greatest juror I find out being on probation is usually a deal breaker. And so, as a result of this newly discovered dream crushing news I’m left with no other choice than to resort to plan c. I’ll drag my sorry ass to court (a place I swore I’d never set foot in again), be grateful that it’s not my trial they’re selecting jurors for, and come home to the most amazing family in the world.
Who will be forced to remind me how amazing and wonderful I am- even if the legal system doesn’t think so...
Douchers.
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