On how I almost sent my baby’s daddy to jail
So this isn’t really an entry on the house, unless you consider the perpetual state of disarray we are living in due to home renovations. But it is an amusing enough anecdote (now) that I thought I would share it.
About a month ago, Clint got a jury summons in the mail. I (naturally ignoring the federal prohibition on opening other people’s mail) promptly tore it open and proceeded to text him that he was in fact due for jury duty in about a month. I searched the form for a place to enter in my impending due date certain it would excuse him from his civic duty. From there it is anyone’s guess as to where it went. I think that was right around the time we began living on one floor in preparation for the floor refinishing, and things got shuffled around. Nevertheless neither I nor him (considering he had never laid eyes on it) gave it another thought.
Cut forward to this past Friday, when who knows what jarred my memory and I all the sudden realized that a. he was summonsed and b. I haven’t seen that piece of paper since it was opened. I wasn’t too concerned until I searched the fridge (where almost all important documents go) and the copious stacks of paper we tend to accumulate full of random things that need addressing or filing at one point or another. Alas, I came up with nothing. As it was Saturday afternoon at this point the best we could do was email the court asking him for the date and time he was due to report. I kept insisting that although it was early October, I was sure it wasn’t the first so I wasn’t too concerned (or I was acting not too concerned largely to keep Clint from going into a panic). At this point we were literally scrubbing the house top to bottom to rid it of any noxious dust so that we could move back in and while I was doing my 30th load of laundry I thought to check on those shelves.
Lo and behold, there it is. As I started to do my “I told you it would work out ok” dance I happened to look at the date- October 1st, 8am. In other words, first thing on Monday. Had we not found that, he would have likely had a warrant issued with consequences including 3 days of jail and/or a rather hefty fine. So not only was the date impending allowing him no time for freelance or to even give his workplace adequate notice, but any excuses for absence must have been submitted one week prior. Naturally I tucked my tail between my legs and admitted full fault. During what was already shaping up to be one of his busiest weeks (of course just 2 weeks before my due date-classic Reno (this includes both of us)) was now filled with two weeks of mandatory, inexcusable jury duty. After offering copious apologies, I reassured him that of course they would let him out when he arrived- just tell them his wife is due any minute.
Well that might be what you’d think, but again-wrong. So as we speak Clint is fulfilling his civic duty for the next two weeks, and I have a post it note in my wallet with a number to call in case I go into labor- to ask that juror #300609 be excused. Clint has luckily forgiven me and on the upside, we’ve got one great story to start out with in the baby book- how papa almost went to jail.
About a month ago, Clint got a jury summons in the mail. I (naturally ignoring the federal prohibition on opening other people’s mail) promptly tore it open and proceeded to text him that he was in fact due for jury duty in about a month. I searched the form for a place to enter in my impending due date certain it would excuse him from his civic duty. From there it is anyone’s guess as to where it went. I think that was right around the time we began living on one floor in preparation for the floor refinishing, and things got shuffled around. Nevertheless neither I nor him (considering he had never laid eyes on it) gave it another thought.
Cut forward to this past Friday, when who knows what jarred my memory and I all the sudden realized that a. he was summonsed and b. I haven’t seen that piece of paper since it was opened. I wasn’t too concerned until I searched the fridge (where almost all important documents go) and the copious stacks of paper we tend to accumulate full of random things that need addressing or filing at one point or another. Alas, I came up with nothing. As it was Saturday afternoon at this point the best we could do was email the court asking him for the date and time he was due to report. I kept insisting that although it was early October, I was sure it wasn’t the first so I wasn’t too concerned (or I was acting not too concerned largely to keep Clint from going into a panic). At this point we were literally scrubbing the house top to bottom to rid it of any noxious dust so that we could move back in and while I was doing my 30th load of laundry I thought to check on those shelves.
Lo and behold, there it is. As I started to do my “I told you it would work out ok” dance I happened to look at the date- October 1st, 8am. In other words, first thing on Monday. Had we not found that, he would have likely had a warrant issued with consequences including 3 days of jail and/or a rather hefty fine. So not only was the date impending allowing him no time for freelance or to even give his workplace adequate notice, but any excuses for absence must have been submitted one week prior. Naturally I tucked my tail between my legs and admitted full fault. During what was already shaping up to be one of his busiest weeks (of course just 2 weeks before my due date-classic Reno (this includes both of us)) was now filled with two weeks of mandatory, inexcusable jury duty. After offering copious apologies, I reassured him that of course they would let him out when he arrived- just tell them his wife is due any minute.
Well that might be what you’d think, but again-wrong. So as we speak Clint is fulfilling his civic duty for the next two weeks, and I have a post it note in my wallet with a number to call in case I go into labor- to ask that juror #300609 be excused. Clint has luckily forgiven me and on the upside, we’ve got one great story to start out with in the baby book- how papa almost went to jail.
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