At the age of thirty-three, I have finally been told by the powers that be that I am to show up to a local courthouse for a week in late March in order to join a pool of potential jury members. (I had hoped that this might happen when I was living in Europe--and I would therefore be unable to attend--but, alas, it happened now.) The week in question happens to be "Spring Break" week in the educational district in which I work, so Mrs. Hasslington and I have cancelled our plans for a brief Midwestern road trip in order for me to spend my week off of work reading dime store novels while waiting to be placed on a jury.
I suppose we could have asked for a deferral, but we decided not to, as we plan to travel back to England for an extended visit this coming summer. That's the most important trip for us this year, so we decided to scupper our March vacation plans. At any rate, this scenario will most likely allow us to save more money than we otherwise would for the summer trip.
I'm actually looking forward to "jury duty," even if it will be an often tedious experience with little chance of actually sitting on a jury, as I have been told it very well might be. At any rate, it will probably provide me with enough time to catch up with the latest books published by some of the authors I enjoy. In these rather lean, frugal times, such simple pleasures mean an awful lot, which, when you think about it, isn't a bad thing at all.
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