Yesterday at lunchtime, we had a gathering in honor of the court clerk's retirement.
The court clerk is a miserable woman.
Miserable.
Complains all the time.
About everything.
If you say, "It's a beautiful day!"
she'll mutter, "Oh! I'm so far behind in my yardwork! I'm gonna have to work like a dog now that the weather's finally good."
So we mostly steer clear of her. How can you have a conversation with somebody who's never . . . ever . . . happy about anything, but always looking for the cloud in front of the silver lining?
But the judge told everybody three times a day for a week the time and place and came and rounded us all up at the appointed hour. So we all went.
It was like a wake.
She didn't want to be there.
We didn't want to be there.
Every attempt at conversation ended after one exchange.
It was awful. Like a wake. But less fun.
