When an official summons arrived in the mail addressed to me from Brampton Courthouse the other day, I immediately panicked. Am I in trouble? Did I accidentally speed through an amber light or jay-walk? Did they finally find out about that piece of licorice I shoplifted from the Beamish Store candy counter when I was a kid? When I opened the envelope and discovered I was being asked to present myself for jury duty, I wasn’t particularly relieved. Serving as a juror is a big responsibility and, depending on the case, the time involved can be a major disruption to our everyday lives.

Being the good citizen I am, however, I carefully scrutinized all the paperwork stuffed into the envelope. There was a form to be filled out online, a fourteen-minute video to watch and further questions to ensure I really am who I should be. After all this falderal, I came down to the last couple of questions, one of which was “Are you over 70?” Well, yes. As a matter of fact, I am. As soon as I clicked “Yes”, I received an immediate electronic message that I do not qualify. Apparently, I’m considered high risk for COVID-19, which makes me too old to serve on a jury. I just wish they’d asked that question before I watched the boring video and answered all the other questions. Between you and me, I wasn’t disappointed though as I’m not sure I would be the best candidate.

It appears my mental capacity is being called into question more often these days. I recently had to resort to a YouTube video to figure out how to use my new bottle of Olay Regenerist Serum. It seems to me the funny twisty top should have a hole in it for dispensing the liquid but it didn’t work that way. The fancy new pump mechanism on the top was for sucking up the serum then dispensing it out the bottom like an eyedropper. Sheesh! They shouldn’t make things so complicated for old ladies like me. We have enough trouble just finding the bottle without our glasses on. I can do without the further challenge of figuring out how to operate it and extract its magic elixir.

Then, there’s that nasty business of me calling The Geek Squad out to the house that I told you about in an earlier blog posting. When I couldn’t get the remote control for the television to respond even after changing the batteries, the friendly Geek patiently informed me that I’d placed the receiver in front of the sensor on the front of the television that picks up the remote signal. Oops! No charge though as I guess he felt sorry for a demented old lady. Pretty soon I’ll need supervision when I operate the stove.

Not having to serve jury duty, however, leaves me with oodles of time to live my busy life, uninterrupted. That means I can continue to devote far too much time to scrolling through Facebook, watching my PVR’d television programs and indulging in my sacred little afternoon naps, although I suspect I wouldn’t be the first person who slept through jury duty. I’ve also noticed that I’m starting to show subtle symptoms of agoraphobia, the fear of going out of the house. It’s probably just normal COVID fatigue but whenever I need to go out for something I put it off. The excuses are varied: I can’t be bothered to put on normal street clothes. Maybe I’ll wait another day and make a couple of stops. It might rain. Do I really have to? I’ll miss my nap.

Life’s getting complicated these days and my conscience is pressing down on me. I still haven’t purged all the crap in our basement which is really embarrassing since everyone else I know has already taken carloads of stuff to charity boxes. Salon manicures and pedicures are a thing of the past. So is shaving my legs. I’m not confident I can summon up the necessary energy required to write a few Christmas cards, never mind going out to the mall to buy them. Short-cut meals have become standard fare. I’ve devolved into a giant, slow-moving slug. One day resembles the next and I seem to be incapable of pulling myself out of the rut I’m in. And now that it’s almost dark by late afternoon, I feel like someone pulled the blinds on life. I’m impotent.

Jury duty would no doubt have done me some good. It would have forced me to get my ass out of bed early in the morning, put on normal clothes and a bit of makeup, start the car and go somewhere to do something productive. I would have met new people, experienced new experiences, and probably uncovered something more interesting to write about in my blog than my overwhelming feelings of inertia. In recent weeks I have, however, managed to work on my upcoming book (We’re Not Dead Yet!) so there is a glimmer of hope despite my current stasis. Stay turned for more news on the release date. It will solve your Christmas shopping dilemmas.

The legal system probably made the right decision in deeming me too old and too frail to serve. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for making bad decisions because I slept through the entire proceedings. Better safe than sorry. They arrived at the correct verdict. And, I’ll continue to serve my time in the comfort of my own La-Z-Girl.