Picking up from where we last left off, here’s more of my old law office writing journal. From the previous century! 🙂
Monday, April 1, 1996
It’s April Fool’s Day—hurray!
I didn’t think it was possible, but my feet seem to be growing even longer. Before you know it, I will be wearing size 11 gunboats. It’s my big toe. It seems to have been designed for a foot much larger than the rest of mine.
I smell trouble on the horizon with the X case. Now Ms. W’s saying that if we don’t get our comments to her by Wednesday, she will file a motion to enforce our agreement. The agreement in the letter of intent. She didn’t specify exactly what she wanted to enforce. The whole thing is stupid. I wrote a letter that was super-conciliatory in tone, hoping that she will cool her jets. If not, it’s a waste of time and her client’s money, but what’s new? As far as alimony goes, the amount is not an issue, if that’s what she wants. Any argument on her part that the letter of intent is in fact all of the agreement is ludicrous. There is no merger clause, there’s none of the standard language—it’s incomplete. No one would assume from what’s in the letter that this is all of the Agreement. So why waste time and money going to court to enforce it? I don’t know. The case has been so strange, it’s not hard to imagine. Unfortunately.
It was Opening Day at the Yard, but it rained, so the game will be tomorrow. And time can begin again.
I’m looking forward to baseball. The O’s should be good. And they’ve got Davey Johnson, which should be interesting.
Tuesday, April 2, 1996
I’m writing about the lunar eclipse. Another celestial event.
I wonder what Wednesday will bring. Or Thursday or Friday. With Ms. W, that is. Did my letter have an effect? Is she blowing smoke? Will Mr. X have reviewed the stupid agreement? Will this stupid case ever end? Is this all really necessary?
Who will stop the madness?
I went to the CBM breakfast this morning. I met someone who knew someone with the Fort Meade JAG who’s thinking of opening her own office. She asked if it was okay for her to call me—I said sure, why not. I’m always happy to inflict my thoughts on others.
She did call this afternoon. I hope I didn’t sound too burnt out, but I wanted to give her the whole lowdown. While I had her on the line, I asked about where to apply for a job with the JAG. She said she’d get back to me with some phone numbers.
I saw Carol P, of course, at the breakfast. She was pretty excited by the idea of my starting a freelance writing career, and I promised to keep in touch.
Wednesday, April 3, 1996
There’s never enough time. The days are flying by.
I got a lengthy application in the mail from the Attorney Grievance Commission. It’ll take some time to complete.
I met with Mr. X today to review the changes to the separation agreement. He’s going to try to talk to his wife about various issues tonight.
I don’t know when I’m going to send our comments. It’ll depend on when he talks to his wife, I guess. As for Ms. W, who knows what she’ll do.
We had a total eclipse of the moon tonight. It was eclipsed as it rose, barely visible at twilight. Its color was rusty orange-brown.
Secretary of Commerce Ron Brown is apparently dead, the victim (one of several) of a plane crash in Bosnia.
I have an early meeting tomorrow with Judge L to talk Mock Trial.
I have a couple who want wills. The husband is the brother of another former client.
I need a new computer. I have to figure out what to do with the old one. Now I just have to convince Rick that I need it.
Saturday, April 6, 1996
We (Connie and I) had a meeting with Judge L on Thursday morning. Whatever else you could say about her, she’s very enthusiastic about the mock trial program and seems to want to contribute in whatever way possible. She was involved with the program in Prince George’s County, and she told us about how the program was structured there.
Mr. X spoke to his wife about the suggested changes. She liked them, she really liked them. She said she’d talk to Ms. W about it. Ms. W will probably fuck everything up. I went ahead and sent the “response” as I keep calling it. Changes are what they are. Amendments. A virtual rewrite, at times. I never said my changes would not be extensive. I also can’t help it if Ms. W can’t write.
Friday was good. Good Friday. I sent the comments to Ms. W and pretty much called it a day after that. Bill R called me and we talked for about an hour or so. He told me a bunch of jokes from off the Internet. He told me the latest about his family. He said that the Library of Congress has cracked down on stack access. In fact, the doors to the stacks are now locked, and access is allowed only to authorized persons. This upsets him, because he liked to wander the stacks to do his genealogical research. I remember when I used to wander the stacks doing research. Or just hanging out. Those were the days.
Today, I went to see Sam [a masseuse and Sam McRae’s namesake]. It was time and money (Rick’s—I used my gift certificate) well spent.
We had dinner in Bethesda. The Armadillo Grill. It was good and, yes, it was overpriced. But we had a coupon, and the whole point of having these coupons is to try new and (sometimes) more expensive places. Our waiter was obliging to the point of being obsequious. Maybe that goes along with waiting on people who live in or around Bethesda—you have to treat them as if they’re God’s gift. Then, we came home and watched all our shows.
I didn’t write, and I feel too tired to do it now. [Blogger’s Note: I now realize how ironic that statement was. 🙂 ]
Monday, April 8, 1996
I spoke to Sandra B today. Apparently, work is drying up at Matthew Bender, but she encouraged me to call and bug them. She said I should try different editors and see what comes up. I told her about my plan to close the office, and she’s very supportive.
Then, I went to the Maryland Penitentiary in Baltimore to see Mr. A. It’s very interesting. You come through a sliding glass and metal bar door. You check in with the guards in “the cage,” then you wait. The waiting room has four or five long benches and a bank of lockers in front of the benches. You put your stuff in the locker. A lot of people were there, because I came at the start of visiting hours. It was also Easter Monday, which may have explained the numbers of children, some of them dressed up.
We sat on the benches and watched (sort of) some soap opera on a crummy TV set on top of the lockers. The place was hopping—visitors arriving, guards coming in and out. It was like a cross between Grand Central Station and the waiting room at the unemployment office. I remember waiting there once, too. Now and then, the guard would announce the name of the prisoner to be visited, and the visitors get past the second sliding metal-barred gate. I must have waited about 40 minutes, counting time in line. Then they called me and I went through the second gate. Through a metal detector (which did not detect the metal in my locker key), then to the guard, who checked the paperwork and put a plastic wristband, like they give you in hospitals, around my wrist. Then, they opened the third sliding door, into the visiting room. It was big with long tables, like a cafeteria. I walked through to the staircase, and descended to the fourth door. No window in this one, but there’s a window on the side. They opened the door for me. I walked in and waited for the guard to attend to me. I happen to see a white male sitting on the bench, but didn’t recognize him until we walked back to the room. I told him I didn’t recognize him without his cap. I couldn’t resist.
They take you back to a small room with a table and two chairs. I suppose I could’ve closed the door, but I didn’t. In any case, we talked for about 20 to 30 minutes. I have to admit, I felt bad about his circumstances. I get laryngitis, he ends up in jail on another charge, and he can’t even serve concurrent sentences. What are ya gonna do? I felt like I did what I could. Maybe—maybe—I can talk the prosecutor into no jail time. We’ll see.
The outside of the prison looks like a medieval castle. That, along with the razor-wire, makes it somewhat intimidating.
At some point, I will probably have dreams about it. There was something about those stairs going down. And the heavy metal orange door at the bottom. I think that was the eeriest part.
I got a message from Jim C that our tickets are ready. I got a message from Ms. W that my changes are unacceptable (big surprise) and, unless I accept everything as she wants it, my client will be forced to file taxes separately and she will seek to enforce our letter of intent in court. Good luck, baby, and kiss my ass. Mrs. X can also kiss the tax refund goodbye.