People are strange. I’m sitting behind tinted windows whose mirrored nature provides a dual view of the courtyard just beyond and the jury room behind me. The gentleman to the left is wearing a vivid green shirt with subtle perpendicular stripes and a pastel green bowtie. He’s much too large to be a leprechaun, but we all have our dreams. Though he looks like a variation of one of my favorite professors (Performance of Literature and Small Group), he appears to be some sort of engineer judging by the large textbook with a profusion of tiny numbers and geometric shapes. I think engineers are taking over, probably due to the sudden Alaskan and Taiwanese influx.
Oh, I’m so tired. I want a doughnut. This is an unusual craving. Pods of sheriffs keep strolling by window, making me nostalgic for ride-alongs and loud voices down the corridor. Is it permissible to refer to sheriffs as pods? I don’t think they would mind, coming from me. It’s interesting how we are willing to receive some statements only from a select few. Hah, the weight of this dude’s keychain seems to be aiding gravity more than he would like. Hark, he pauses in his ungainly ambles to valiantly hoist upward. I have a question: Do men genuinely have a predilection for plaid, particularly as a covering for the nether regions, or is it foisted upon them by the limited imaginations of designers (with the exception of mystifying holiday extravaganzas)?
I was actually early this morning, but it turns out that I could have been twenty minutes late. Of course, of course. Orientation is starting with an energetic government employee enthusing into the microphone. Morning people...
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