"Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out."
1.3.25
Sitting for one last day on the farm, with a little billable work to do and lots of honey-do's before we start driving back to the Southern Tier tomorrow. It's been a time of discernment now drawing to a close, as we dive back into real life. For the last several weeks, there's been no social media, very little news, lots of time to talk about what happens from here.
I gave my notice at the firm on Monday, with my last day on 31 January. You don't get any pay after you leave D&S, per our shareholder agreement, so there's no real incentive to work my files all that hard although I do feel a fiduciary obligation to my partners to make sure I bring some money into the till to cover my salary this month. I also have a trial scheduled for the end of the month, a massive time-suck if it goes, and basically pro bono for me.
I've already started working on setting up what will amount to a virtual firm. I've complained for years that the brick-and-mortar model doesn't make any financial sense, and the staffing pool in the panhandle isn't adequate for what I do. Now we'll see how those wild ideas play out in practice. Financially, it could be the perfect model to switch to part-time practice; when P and I were running numbers during our family staff meeting in the hot tub this morning, the pro forma suggested a cost savings of around 60%, before taking into account all the tax advantages of being able to topline expenses like home offices and Columbia flights between venues. Work less, make more money. Yes please.
Speaking of venues, Dio installed the bookshelves in what's morphing into a very cool office on the farm.
Why would I practice in a windowless cubicle in PC?
Meanwhile, P and I are pondering where to travel this summer. We'd talked about walking the Camino de Santiago in June, but are feeling sort of irreligious after the election. I suggested this morning that we do a similar walk across the Dolomites, staying in luxury hotels and visiting the venues depicted in my favorite novel, A Soldier of the Great War. Or maybe the Netherlands, which she and Issac had discussed. We own ourselves, finally. We'll do whatever the hell we want.
Then there's DJT. Last night I watched a rerun of Chris Rock's monologue on SNL just before Christmas, and he made the point that we need a little historical perspective as we roll our eyes about what a scoundrel we'd just elected. Did everyone forget how many rapists we elected as president in our first few decades, slavers who sometimes brought their victims with them to the inauguration? I could go beyond Rock's examples, remembering Andrew Jackson's adumbration of the Trump Administration, Andrew Johnson arriving drunk for his swearing-in and getting impeached, the stunning corruption of the Grant Administration, and Warren G. Harding bringing such shame upon the office and his family that his wife supposedly had him poisoned. Cadet Bone Spur is more the rule than the exception.
Time to lean into a little productive activity. It's almost 10:30, after all.
One could get used to this.