Do I Get a Chip?

Seven days working. Methinks that merits a chip or a ribbon or a DRANK. And I've only cried once. A day. Almost every time in the car.

I have to say, the people in my circle of hell are pretty pleasant, and the work itself seems to be fairly low stress, so far, anyway. The cast of characters is all there - The Busybody. The Mother Hen. The Weirdo. The Gunner. The (Barely) Closeted Gay Guy. So that's somewhat entertaining. But The Day? She passes sooooo slowly. I'm watching the clock and thinking of where Peach and Olive are at every moment. For now, the amazing Mama Turista has swooped in to handle afterschool fun and activities three days a week, and T-Bone is taking the other two. Once we all get properly transitioned (if ever), we'll look into hiring someone OR, thanks to my lottery winnings, I'll take the reins back myself. Whichever.

One funny lawyer story: A friend took her tweenage daughter to court with her one day, and the daughter was telling her grandmother about what she saw, including a very strangely dressed woman she described as "bad" (like scary bad). For whatever(!) reason, the grandmother said, "Well, was she a prostitute?" And the daughter said, "No. No, my mom was the only prostitute in the courtroom." And then she said, "It's prosecutor, isn't it?"