Two things in my life came to an end today:

Jury duty. And eggnog.

There were no more cases for us to jurorize, so they sent us home at lunchtime. And I’ve just poured myself the last of the nog, which expires today anyway. The former, I have to say, I got too little of. I wouldn’t’ve minded giving society a taste of my thick, meaty JUSTICE. But the latter… yeah, I’ve had enough. Maybe it’s because it’s lowfat, but drinking a half-gallon of nog in two days has pretty much slaked what I once believed to be an unquenchable thirst for the ol’ Milk-of-the-Bull.

And, really, it’s probably just as well they booted me out of the courthouse. By the end, I was reduced to playing Scrabble against myself,* and a bunch of my words were things like “jihad” and “afire” and “wail,” so who the hell knows what I might’ve been capable of.

(Seriously, I was kind of creeping me out. I don’t know if it was secret desires finding expression, or if it was my sensitive-artist-sense tingling with prophetic warnings, but that Scrabble board didn’t make me want to stay in the courthouse all day.)

*I didn’t keep score, so I don’t know who won.

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