Dear Diary,

I think I am suffering from a mild case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I'm not sure what I thought they were doing yesterday, but I'm fairly certain it included a Rambo-like/Scorched Earth Theory of Warfare. I figured they'd come into my courtroom with guns blazing. And then last night I was up with dreams about actual men bursting into my courtroom, and even though I hid from them behind the clerk's bullet-proof desk, they still came after me. This is what my job does to me.

I was afraid to go to my courtroom today after my dream. But then I remembered I had a jury trial today. It was then that my fear of looking like an idiot in front of a group overcame my fear of death by firing squad.

Oh, a jury trial. I was afeared of it. But it wasn't too bad. I had already set things up on Friday, and I was actually a little early for work. BIG surprise. It was a criminal case. It went pretty fast. The trial was supposed to go two days, but ended up being only today. Well, it was a long day. The jury started to deliberate at 4:30 so I had to order food--which means I got some too. This is good news. I bought food for the jury to last 2 days and we were only there for one. Hence, leftovers!