I won’t be able to fully break out of anxiety from the jury shit until I receive a formal notice that I’m done. When the freed people got out of the box, the officials told all of us that we are DONE, so I’m intellectually sure, but not emotionally.
After 2020 I no longer believe statements by officials. I’ve been checking the docket every day to be double sure and triple sure that no other trial is starting this week. On Friday morning the case has disappeared from the docket, so it must have been concluded on Thursday. This makes me feel a bit more relieved, but I’d still prefer a firm written notice.
While checking the docket for the dozenth time, I noticed a hearing for one of those cases with memorable names:
US vs 102.38 Acres of Land More or Less Situated in Grant County
Of course the defendant isn’t really the land, it’s the owners who are named in the rest of the title. The case is listed as a condemnation, which formerly meant that the gov’t wanted the land for a project like a bridge or highway. We no longer build bridges and highways, so it’s undoubtedly EPA shit about a few drops of oil or other unholy contaminant.
Still, it’s fun to imagine 100 acres of land walking into court in a prison uniform, or trying to fit behind the defense table.
= = = = =
Friday afternoon: Finally got firm notification. The website says:
There are no trials scheduled for the remainder of your term. Your jury service for this term has ended. You are no longer required to report or check for instructions. We appreciate your serving as a juror for the United States District Court.
Well, I don’t appreciate serving. This shit was extremely aggravating. I had been working systematically out of a long bad period last year, gradually bringing back normalcy, gradually toughening up. This completely unnecessary monstrosity struck in mid-Feb. It pushed me up the anxiety scale again, though not to the previous peak. Now I can resume trying to pull it down.
Polistra's Mill 