September 22, 2006
Arrrr!
My apologies to all of those who are still celebrating National Talk Like A Pirate Day.
I'm trying to keep it together, folks. I really am. But this stuff ain't easy. Seriously. I'm carrying around another, fully formed human being inside my body (who still shows no signs of wanting to leave, by the by), I can't sleep half the time because I constantly have to get up to pee, I only have two pairs of shoes that still fit and we still don't know when we're going to close on this house. That isn't for lack of trying -- mine or the title attorney who is doing my closing (bless him. He's one of my favorite people on Earth right now, as he seems to be one of the only people who has the capacity to speed up this closing and is willing to do so). I'm just worn out. Carrying the baby certainly takes a physical toll, not to mention the psychic toll, and when you add in buying a house and practicing law, well, I'm terrible at math but I know that doesn't add up to anything good.
The biggest problem seems to be that I am losing my tolerance for the inane, the mundane and the stupid. Sadly, when you practice law, you run into all three of these things more often than one would expect. Don't believe me?
Yesterday I got a call from a Judge's law clerk informing me that there would be a status conference and hearing today in a number of cases and it would be set at a specific courthouse. Since the parish in which the case is set has three courthouses, no one ever knows which one to visit for hearings, so the result is lots of whiny lawyers roaming around these small town courthouses like cattle. It freaks out the court staff and is generally to be avoided. So, she called me to tell me the right location and asked me to send an e-mail to all the lawyers. Fine. No problem.
I did, and about five minutes later, they started. Yup, the phone calls. My personal favorite?
Caller: "Um, hello, Kitty?"
Me: "Yes?"
Caller: "This is Lawyer X and I was wondering if you could give me the location of tomorrow's hearing."
Me: "Well, as I said in my e-mail, it will be in Small Town A. I think that's right off the interstate. You should be able to find directions on the internet fairly easily. I would give you specific directions, but it's been over a year since I've been to that courthouse myself."
Caller: "Ooooooohhh! So, the hearing will be at the courthouse?"
Me: "Uh, yeah."
Caller: "Oh! I'm sure I can find that. Thanks!"
Where else would a hearing be? Was the caller expecting me to give them directions to the nearest gas station? Seriously, what? I got into the office this morning and had a voice mail, left at 7:20 this fine a.m., from a secretary asking me to call the lawyer for whom she works and give that lawyer directions to the same courthouse. Do I look like Mapsco? Last I checked, the location of EVERY courthouse in America is well documented, folks. Some people even go so far as to take tours of courthouses (apparently, there are no lawyers among these tour groups).
I don't know how much more of this I can take before I lose my shit. I'm trying to keep it together, but this is crazy.
You know, I just thought of an idea. I think that the best revenge will be to call up the folks who are holding back the closing on my house and repeatedly ask them for directions to my new digs. If that doesn't drive them crazy enough to set up the closing, I don't know what will.
Posted by Kitty at September 22, 2006 06:20 PM
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