I Need a Wife

She doesn't have to be pretty or charming. Just smart. And very cheerful about the prospect of picking up after me -- the Hubbins' complaining is tiresome.

Seriously, I'm in the office [warning -- lawyer stuff to come. Talk among yourselves], trying to muddle through all of the ramifications of a notice of removal filed in response to an amended pleading, in a case where we've already moved for default for failure to plead in the state court and already served all kinds of written discovery, and where my boss wants me to go for the jugular. Now, please.

There is probably a simple answer to all of this, and the simple answer seems to be, "Haha! All of the deadlines are reset by the removal notice. So have fun refiling your discovery after the 26(f) conference." But I don't want to concede this and I don't want to run it past the boss (who isn't here anyway, so I can't sneak it out of him by having a broader discussion of the case). I don't want to discuss it with one of the young'ns because I'm supposed to be more experienced and such. And my eyes hurt and I don't want to read any more.

And the TV in the conference room doesn't work, so I'm missing the Westminster Kennel Club dog show. Or I'm too much of a freaking luddite to figure out how to work it -- very plausible. Three years ago, I offered a co-worker lunch if he would make my stereo system work. I wired the whole thing up, but it just wouldn't make noise out come of the speakers. He pushed a button, took a step back and regarded the machine, and noise magically came out of the speakers.

In the analog world, noise comes out immediately. In the digital world, you might have to wait 5 seconds. I felt like the ape that got its head bashed in at the beginning of 2001. . . if that ape pointed out the monolith to the basher, gave him the long bone, demonstrated the whacking motion, and then had to buy him lunch.

I digress.

If I had a really smart wife, maybe one with lots of complex commercial litigation experience, I could ask her these questions. And she would chirpily respond, citing FRCP and Title 28, while fetching my knitting and a glass of cabernet. And she wouldn't think I was too lazy to look it up myself.