But no hand on the Bible.
long-term memory © Laura Kicey
Even with all the rigamarole surrounding it, even the last minute stand-in for our DA.. sitting around waiting until we've aged a bit... things fell into place. I was third to testify and when I saw him before me I have never been more certain of anything. Months later and it came back fresh and I felt unexpectedly strong instead of scared. I was still nervous waiting for the defense to try to snag me on something. Having actually, yes, IDed him in the lineup... and having had nothing to drink that night, I actually became a key witness... when all these months I thought I was useless. I woke up this morning thinking my presence was pointless. 3 of our group of four came today, along with 3 other separate victims. The verdict would have been reached, had I stuck around til the bitter end. Sentencing will happen another day, when I may have to show up yet again. No jury. Just his family in the back of the room, who apparently were laughing at one of the other guys testifying. I think my turning fuscia on the stand was enough to put them back in their place. I had half an eye on them and while they didn't stir, I cannot imagine what they were thinking. They might have been baffled as to why I kept bonking my neck on the badly placed microphone, but maybe that was just me.
I have been exhausted all day having stayed up late the night before trying to mend other holes in the fence. No gentle fix, but I felt a small relief that I hope will make the future easier for Those that Matter, and even for the general public, as hearing me venting my frustration at top volume by beating a large wet rug into submission over the bathtub ledge... well the world and my neighbors (some of whom have been asking for it) will be better off without. This hasn't been an easy month and a half... no easy decisions. My idle mind endlessly replaying what-have-beens and what-might-have-beens... today, those voices yelled a little less and nodded a little more. It wasn't joy, but it was a good place to start.
Post court, unable to walk around in the heat without becoming human showerhead, I planted myself in a park and leaned in wait for a last minute hair didding. The stylist never remembers my name but recalls everything I've ever told her when she sees my face... so girltalk ensued and I ended up with a weird shelf on the back of my head... which we both said needed fixing... which it 'seemed' to be, twice... but yeah I still have a shelf and I don't want to talk about it.
red-handed © Laura Kicey
After all was said and lopped, I met up with Daniel for the Unofficial Misery Loves Company & Persian Food Dinner... since he has had a crap week as well. We ate, we glared, we took a few photos and then I left before I could be talked into ice cream... I mean c'mon, we did have the weird complimentary dessert that seemed like sawdust made out of dessicated sesame paste... ok, I'm a horrible person and I just wanted to go home and crawl up next to blogger and then under the covers.
Can you blame me? Memory foam and anonymous readers. Mmmmm.