Because after reading the most recent post about my exciting jury duty summons, my brother felt as if he needed to call me RIGHT AWAY and snap me back to reality.
My career as a juror is just not meant to be. But I'm grateful that it's not ALL my fault.
In fact, I believe the majority of the fault lies with the former-police-officer-turned-law-student-turned-States-Attorneys-office-intern-turned-Public-Defenders-Office-intern.
Or Mr. Buzzkill, as I like to call my little brother.
Yes, my sibling's professional career path has potentially dashed all my dreams of storming a courtroom all "Elle Woods" style and judiciously doling out my opinions alongside a panel of my peers.
Mr. Buzzkill says that during jury selection, the parties may just be interested to know if I'm related to anyone who's been a cop. Or worked for the State's Attorney's Office. Or the Public Defender's Office. He also says he's really sorry.
I think he hears the legitimate disappointment on my end of the phone. Because he turns it around quickly and suggests that, hey, maybe I could just go down there and hang out for the day with a hundred other citizens who are sure to want to be there as much as I do. It might be fun.
But I'm already bubbling in my "stay-at-home-mom" excuse and sealing the envelope.
I think my driver's license is up for renewal soon. With a few tweaks, my new "Jury Duty" outfit will totally work at the DMV.