Pacing. Staring into space. Wandering around the house, up and down the stairs inside, then all around the newly mown yard outside. Frequent necessary trips to the bathroom. Frequent unnecessary trips to the kitchen. Gnashing teeth, rubbing palms together, breathing heavy sighs.
Thatís how I spent my day, only because I was facing (or maybe running from) the uncertainty of next week. I had to wait until after 5:00 pm to make the phone call to see if I had to report for jury duty Monday morning. Up until 5:00, I could have asked for another extension. If Iíd done that, I would have put off this agony until September. I already postponed it from January to now, and the easy way out would have been to give myself another four months.
Ordinarily I wouldnít hesitate to take the easy way out, but my sense is that every time I put it off, my name gets closer to the top of the list the next time Iím called. Iím obsessive enough already, just thinking Iíll probably have to go, without knowing almost surely Iíd have to go. This ordeal needs to be over, even if it means getting on a jury and sending someone up the river. I canít take another day of this pacing (except that Iíll be pacing every day and night until either Iím called in or taken off the hook).
You donít want to be near me when Iím facing something like this. Iím even less fun to be around than I normally am. Iím also less patient, and less focused, and much less coherent. All I can think about is that I want it to be over, the sooner the better.