Thanks to one and all for standing guard outside my little shithouse this week.
I was called to jury duty again, and this time they actually required me to do something other than show up and wish I were elsewhere, running or riding a bike.
The judge sprung us Thursday afternoon, and though yesterday was my last official day in the three-week-long jury-selection barrel, I knew I would not get hauled in again. So I went for a leisurely 5K run. Today I’ll ride a bike.
And sometime later I will have some thoughts about my four days as a juror. Though Roy Blount Jr. beat me to a few of them in his essay “I Always Plead Guilty,” from the collection “What Men Don’t Tell Women.”
Especially when he wrote: “Fucking up also comes from doing things that deep down inside you know better than.”
Mad Blog Media 
So were you actually a juror on a trial? Or just in one of those interminable jury pools waiting to find out?
The open thread was interesting, so you’re welcome. I didn’t hold my nose at all.
I was on a jury for a domestic violence case where both people involved were dumber than a brick. I took notes, submitted questions, and listened carefully. When it was time for deliberations, the judge picked me as an alternate juror, at random, and excused me unless I was summoned. I still felt slighted as if my duty was somehow lacking. Now I am over 75 and can request excusal ’cause I’m an old fart. I intend to do just that if summoned again. Good on you for doing your duty.