“The law does not expect a man to be prepared to defend every act of his life which may be suddenly and without notice alleged against him.”
― John Marshall
I usually take the weekend off from this writing exercise, talking to myself and generally whining about one thing or another. But Monday I'll be in trial, my first contested, in-person proceeding since before the pandemic, and I know for a fact my two days in court will not allow for the luxury of a few minutes of these musings. So I'm at the keyboard now, watching a spectacular sunrise here in at Wyldswood on a cold, clear morning.
The geese are out there squawking and honking under the deck. I can't see them but they're easy enough to hear, with their constant complaining about the perilous nature of their lives as the last two survivors of our little fowl family.
Okay, I'm stalling. Once I start the grind, today will be spent churning out witness outlines and circulating them to those on our side who've agreed to testify, building cross-examination bullet lists in anticipation of the nonsense we'll hear from the other side, matching exhibits to testimony, drafting a brief opening statement in light of what's been said in the pretrial memoranda each side filed last night. And somewhere in there I've committed to P that I'll go hang the blinds in the bedroom of the Good Place, a/k/a "Splinters".
As you can see, we're looking at a new palette for the buildings here, but haven't gotten past the pump house and the Good Place. The main house is still pink pink pink.
This will be a busy day, but I needed this, needed to get up off the air mattress, sprawl on a couch then go sleep in a real bed, our bed, and walk out to the fish house and throw some stinky surface pellets to the fish while the geese nip at my heels and hiss. It is a weary time, and I recharge a little when I'm here.
Meanwhile, P is sick as a dog beyond my reach up in Corning, recovering from a booster shot last night that has knocked her down quite hard. I sent a few unacknowledged texts while I was eating supper at the Elks Lodge last night, and another this morning as has been my tradition as long as we've been married when we're apart. I panicked a little at the lack of a response, not like her at all, and finally called a few minutes ago. Although it was nine in the morning, I awakened her from a dead sleep after a night of sweats and chills and a headache she described as feeling like a nail being driven through her skull. I let her go back to sleep, feeling a little guilty for waking her up.
At some point today I'll dial up the Georgia-Florida game on Hulu. I had planned to ride over to the Elks Lodge to watch, but that means sitting in a bar for several hours which is a recipe for trouble, particularly if the Dawgs don't play well. The firm has graced me with a new iPad Pro, and now for the first time I can make the Hulu app work and watch TV from anywhere. Last night I started watching the Braves game at the Lodge, Kevin sitting next to me dressed as a pirate (it was Halloween party night at the Elks, and it seemed like every third person was dressed as Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean. Even the women. Especially the women). I at a passable steak and fried shrimp, then came home to watch the last three innings on our own couch. I was falling asleep by the end, but made it to see the Braves pull off a brilliant 2-0 win and take a 2-1 lead in the series. We'll see what today brings.
My plan had been to fly over to Panama City tomorrow around lunchtime, then on to Texas after a busy week, but for my failure to drop off a pair of huge bar windows Peg rescued from a building to be demolished years ago. "Huge" as in way too big for the Columbia's little cargo compartment. She wanted them delivered to the condo and incorporated somehow, and last Monday morning I stowed them in the backseat of the truck for delivery from here. Then I forgot about them, distracted by the swirl of trial preparation. As I was driving back here late yesterday afternoon, nearly to the St. Mark's River, P called me on the phone and asked where I'd left the windows. I peered over my shoulder, and there they were. I promised to deliver them on Sunday.
Of course, this means driving back here at some point during the week, and flying the plane back to Panama later. Or maybe I'll just finish the week here, and fly from Perry to Texas. It's only a forty minute difference, after all, and I'll be able to sleep in a bed.
Alas, it's more stressful to stiff-arm work than to sit down and plow through it. Time to start cleaning up those outlines.
Never a dull moment...