If you caught my Facebook post, you already know I'm occupied serving as Juror #1 for local civil case. The judge promised that it would be completed in 3 days. So far so good. The case is done; all evidence presented, rebutted, and filed. Now 12 of us must come to agreement. Hmmm. How long will that take?
I miss my homestead. My work is here. But, don't get me wrong: I'm honored to be able to serve on a jury. No other countries in the world hold trials like we do in the USA. It's a privilege to be a part of the process...But I miss my home, my family, seeing the sky, exercising our two Labrador Retrievers in the mornings, checking on the garden, then the horses in the middle of the day; making meals for everyone, overseeing the schoolwork, and so on.
So instead of pulling on my work jeans and stall boots this morning, our first true fall-weather day, I put on my "town clothes", drove 21 miles to the court house, parked in the little lot, walked throw the metal detector while sending my bag through the screening device, then took my seat in the juror box. I'm happy to be able serve. But, there are no windows. No fresh air. No ability to stand when I want, or leave when I want, or eat when I want...I miss my homestead.
I'm optimistic that we the jury can come to a decision tomorrow so the following morning I can return to enjoying my hot coffee while watching the next storm roll in, making a fire in the wood stove, dirty ranch jeans, and stall boots.
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