Bad news, I'm afraid. The invisible pocketknife - the knife that has successfully passed under the not-so-watchful eyes of the airport security in at least a dozen flights around this country - this knife is no more. Apparently the security personnel at the courthouse in Fairfield are far more observant, or else their x-ray machinery is superior to that used in airport terminals. They caught my knife in the first go. In deference to their superior technology I gave them the knife to toss. It's old, the blade is so dull it couldn't possibly cut anything anymore, and I never really use for anything more than a nail file these days. Plus I think there was something growing in the cracks and besides I really want to get myself a new one - perhaps one of those incredibly spiffy knives similar to the computer nerd pocketknife I gave Richard last Christmas.

I suppose, in a way, this is for the best, because one of these days those airport security folks would have eventually caught it. Really they would. No, I'm sure of it. Just pretend I said those last bits without the slightest hint of sarcasm, okay?

The reason my knife had to be caught in the first place was that I was called for jury duty on Wednesday. Tuesday night I called the handy number, and after wading through some version of voicemail hell, I eventually discovered that I'd been given a one-day reprieve. Unfortunately, last night I discovered that the reprieve was over and I had to show up in Fairfield to join a small throng of other similarly disinterested people, to mull around in a large green room wearing oh-so-lovely Juror badges, waiting for hours on end to either be called into the court or released back to freedom. Yes, I know the jury system is important, and it's critical to have intelligent people on the jury in all cases of trial, but oh this is so horridly inconvenient, and I have to admit that I have spent a good deal of time since receiving that summons trying to come up with ways in which I might possibly be able to get out of it.

Luckily I never had the opportunity to try any of the (probably incredibly lame) schemes I had come up with for getting out of serving, because after we'd all been sitting there for a few hours the judge himself came in and told us that in the last fifteen minutes they had suddenly dismissed the charges and hence, there was no longer a trial to select a jury for, and suddenly we were free. I joined the milling throngs to pick up my verification of service, just in case I get called again before twelve months are up (this county only requires service once a year), hiked back to my car, got in, pulled out of the parking lot, and hadn't driven more than a block when the odd thunking noises coming from the right front side of the car had me pulling into the nearest place I could find to stop.

There is a lot of construction going on across the street from the courthouse, and I have a feeling that I probably managed to pick up some sort of stray metal bit from there. Whatever it was had done a good job because the right front tire was completely flat. Ugh.

A very nice man stopped while I was crouched on the ground jacking up the car and came over to help, so between the two of us we got the dead tire off and the spare on. Then he pointed me to the nearest tire store and my car and I limped off to find it. Should I mention at this point that the spare was flat too? Yes indeedy it was all kinds of fun!

I knew this was all because my car was jealous of Richard's, since it was just last week it and I were at another tire store getting a new wheel. Ha ha, my car said proudly since it has now one-upped Richard's car, earning a pair of new tires instead of the single one Richard's car got. Ha ha, said my brain as I winced at the cost of those brand new tires, tired from sitting and twiddling my thumbs in a very green jury room and weak from hunger because by then it was way past time for lunch.

After all of the fun and excitement of the morning I decided that the rest of the day was a complete and total loss and just went home. This decision was spurred on by the fact that even if I had made it into the office after all the aforementioned fun and excitement, I'd have only been there a few hours, and somehow it didn't seem worth the commute. So instead of doing more research on the embodied energy of ceiling tiles, I lay in bed and poked at the cats and read books until Richard came home. While he made dinner (the most marvelous cheeseburgers, swimming in onions and garlic, followed by pumpkin spice cake and cinnamon gingerbread ice cream which I am only mentioning here because it is so good!) I decided that I might as well do *something* productive (besides spend money on car wheels) so I went outside and managed to clear the weeds out of a huge chunk of the backyard path (persistent little suckers, weeds are).