Closer to 13, door-to-door.
First court at 9. Strangest case I've seen in awhile right ahead of mine- a tale of woe and intrigue involving a debtor with a barely discernable brain wave reading, a scamming "investor" getting mortgages on his property (who turns out to be someone I was asked to sue an hour later in a totally unrelated matter), and then transferring one of them to one Daniel Wegman (but not THAT D-Weg
) using a recorded document that literally looked like it was written out in crayon.
My case was utterly boring compared to that.
By the time I got back to the office, my back had resumed hurting. It started over the weekend, when I took a turn ripping wisteria vines out of our back yard, trying a nifty bent-over row move to get at two of the peskier ones at once. That caused grief from that night into last night, and again later today after a bad night's sleep plus an hour-plus of driving plus an hour-plus of sitting in a crappy hearing room chair.
Yet, after one triple-dose of Advil, one surprisingly unaggravating lower body workout and a final hour in an equally crappy church parlor chair, it feels much better.
Maybe that's just my heart helping. For at that meeting, the church leaders supported my effort to become an explicily inclusive United Methodist congregation. Not without a little bit of dissention and a fair amount of bureaucratic BS- it's got to be tweaked into the right form
with no subtraction of substance- but it will be approved by email vote by this time next week- in time for me to tell the Bishop himself when he meets with his District flock a week from tomorrow. I will be pleased as hell to present this news as a kissing of something other than his ring.
And now a word from our sponsor. The word is, "carp."
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