I’ve got a better than average reason to still be up this far past my bed time: fear. Tomorrow (today) is Friday (this being Thursday night), and I’m determined to qualify (in parenthesis) every other word (typed in the mother tongue) in this sentence. When next the sun rises over fair Dunedin, I’ll be sitting in my office trying to pump myself up for my first day of hearings since the cellular rebellion (I like that turn of phrase enough that it might just have some staying power).

This is notable because:
1. I’ll be exposing myself in public – epidemiologically speaking of course.
2. I’ll be doing more walking aroud than I’ve done the last two weeks.
3. It could be my last day at work for the next couple of weeks (because it may take me that long to recover).

Why am I doing this to myself? Odd as it may sound, I miss the people. Child support hearings are not the greatest place to see people at their best, but in some ways they don’t have their normal guard up. In between the pressures of money, abandonment, and love unrequited, sometimes you have the opportunity to say something that might stick more than it would’ve otherwise. The fact is, as much as I grumble about it (most of it showy and incincere), working with people at a time when they’re down can be a joy. Plus, I can’t wait to talk to the judge again… what a character. He’s got more stories than a library… and he might tell you he’s older than most of them… one of those folks you can’t help but surrender your ears to.

Anyway, if I don’t post anything Friday night I’m probably collapsed in some corner of the house, with a soft blanket and pillow, waiting for my strength to return.

Give the gift of words.