My cell phone rang when I was in a meeting on Friday, so I let it fall through to voicemail. It was a call reminding me that I was subpoenaed to come to court in Modesto on Monday 13 May, as a character witness in a friend's trial.
I really should open my paper mail on the day it comes in. When I got home Friday night, I sorted through a stack I thought I'd already checked for (metaphorical) bombs, and there was the written subpoena I'd been promised back in early April.
Ugh. Lawyers make me break out in hives as it is (except for the one or two I know socially). I have no hope whatsoever that anything resembling The Right Thing will happen as a result of this trial. Further-and-finally, the friendship I had with D. (the person on trial) will almost certainly become a casualty as well. (Know anyone you like, but who you cannot tell the unvarnished truth of what you think of them or their actions? Well, I didn't varnish when speaking to her lawyers, and I won't be varnishing on the stand.) The irony, of course, is that I'm a witness for the defense (I'm on her side).
I am so not looking forward to tomorrow.