(no subject)
No more jury duty. It was a little anticlimatic, in that I was an alternate juror and had to sit through the ponderous and very redundant cross-examination of the sole witness (it was a summary trial? I'm sure I have the terminology wrong) along with the ramblings of the attorneys but couldn't take part in deliberations because none of the real jurors became incapacitated during the course of the morning. I at least wanted a chance to discuss the case with one of the other jurors but that, of course, was a no-no. I ended up getting my court-provided lunch and leaving around 2pm. I am miffed that I have to head into work tomorrow, but I'll cope somehow.
The good thing about heading into work is that I have no excuse for not going to the gym (except for those pesky flu-like symptoms, of course).
I almost forgot the real impetus for this entry: I started calling around for therapists this afternoon. Nerve-wracking does not even come close to describing the agony of the process. Out of the six numbers I called from the mega-list of providers within 5 miles of the given zip code, two were incorrect numbers (one for an unrelated MD, the other where the cell was in possession of the brother of the provider and he took it upon himself to call back this evening and inquire in an agitated fashion why someone had called his number), one rang with no pick-up, one went to a voicemail (where I reluctantly left a message asking for call back), two were for the same person who was not in attendance and impossible to track down. Very disconcerting, although not as bad as when I was in semi-meltdown mode looking for someone and I got responses but the third degree ("why are you calling?" in an abrasive tone of voice? yes, that's going to make people want to sit on your couch all right). I'm going to give another shot tomorrow and if that doesn't work out I'm just going to ask the lovely folks at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
newyorkers for recommendations.
The good thing about heading into work is that I have no excuse for not going to the gym (except for those pesky flu-like symptoms, of course).
I almost forgot the real impetus for this entry: I started calling around for therapists this afternoon. Nerve-wracking does not even come close to describing the agony of the process. Out of the six numbers I called from the mega-list of providers within 5 miles of the given zip code, two were incorrect numbers (one for an unrelated MD, the other where the cell was in possession of the brother of the provider and he took it upon himself to call back this evening and inquire in an agitated fashion why someone had called his number), one rang with no pick-up, one went to a voicemail (where I reluctantly left a message asking for call back), two were for the same person who was not in attendance and impossible to track down. Very disconcerting, although not as bad as when I was in semi-meltdown mode looking for someone and I got responses but the third degree ("why are you calling?" in an abrasive tone of voice? yes, that's going to make people want to sit on your couch all right). I'm going to give another shot tomorrow and if that doesn't work out I'm just going to ask the lovely folks at
newyorkers for recommendations.