Well, the first of several days of voir dire is now behind us. The jurors who were not eliminated for cause were told to return on October 20. I assume that is when the final selection will be made.
Being at the courthouse all day long was a lot more tiring than I imagined. I ache all over. Most of this is because of the seating. I am convinced that the person who designed coach seating on airplanes was brought in to coordinate the seating in the courtroom. It has that same feel of being unable to find a position for your legs that is comfortable…you can’t stretch out completely, but you can’t really find a way to draw your legs in that feels good, either. I think the latter is because the seats are too low. They aren’t easy to get up out of either. I sat for a while on a wooden chair at the back, but that was hard, and made for someone who doesn’t have short legs like mine. Don’t suppose they’d let me sit in the jury box. Those seats look much more comfortable.
It was a bit of a shock to see Ling in regular clothing again. It’s been a long time. She sat demurely beside her attorney and kept her eyes to the front of the courtroom. That took a bit of discipline I would guess, especially when some of the potential jurors became a bit emotional.
I got taken to task by the bailiff, who told me that I couldn’t sit anywhere near the jurors when waiting in the hall. I felt that was a little unfair, since I was sitting by myself and some of the jurors sat near to ME. He told me that I had to move to an area where there weren’t any potential jurors nearby. Easier said than done, since they spread out away from each other the entire length of the building. I don’t think there WAS any place that didn’t have any potential jurors nearby. Not even the restroom – I tried. I’m not supposed to exit the courtroom until they are all out either. I wasn’t trying to catch anyone’s eye or watch the jurors file out the door. I’m afraid that all I was thinking of was getting out of that damned uncomfortable seat before I got so stiff I would be unable to move and would have to be pried out of my chair with a crowbar. Whatever the rules are, as my dad used to say. I take direction well, just point me where you want me to go – upstage, stage left or even down in the green room.
I’m afraid that my yarn usage may be worse than I imagined. Got through 2 and a half skeins almost without noticing. In just one day! This could be a problem. What if I start unraveling peoples’ sweaters or something? Perhaps I should have someone take apart everything that I do in the night like Penelope did with her weaving. Or someone could sit beside me and take everything apart from the bottom as I add on to the top. Say, I could learn to take notes in patterns of stitches like in Tale of Two Cities. If all my notes were in yarn, I wouldn’t find it so awkward to suddenly find that the piece I’m working on has grown like a philadendron on Insta-Grow and is in danger of creeping into the jury box. This will take some thought.