Please be advised that this is not the usual mcgrew diary. No drinking or chasing women in this one.
So, I went to court today for the dissolution of my damned marriage.
I'm pretty bummed. And pissed. There is no justice in Illinois, it seems.
No justice, no morality. The law is rock rigid, and is based on 1950 Ozzie and Harriet rather than the 21st century George and Jane Jetson.
But I'm ranting, and probably not making a bit of sense since you can't possibly have a clue what I'm babbling about.
So I'll start last week, when I got a letter Wednesday from my lawyer. The letter was a reminder of my Monday court date (wow, mcgrew got a date!).
It also had some crap about my debts and meager assets to fill out. And some stuff I wasn't sure I understood that I had to ask my lawyer about.
So I call the lawyer Thursday, and get squared away with the questions, involving a very humorous typo - they spelled my name “Hilda Mallory”.
So I needed to fill this stuff out, and get it to her Friday night.
Work is moving me to another office five miles south, so now I need a car. By the middle of January, when the move happens.
The good news is that's where they moved an old boss who always treated me well, a more intellectual type with a PhD and two Master's. My knowledge of statistics is from a book he wrote (and two more he gave me). They had completely dismantled my unit, and had me “on loan” to another unit, Dave's.
Of course, after the dismantled unit was gone and its members scattered, they realized that the dismantled unit was necessary. So they just moved the office to where most of the people had been moved to. Boy, those guys that run things sure are intelligent, no wonder the economy is so good and unemployment so low.
Thursday night was to be a unit dinner after work, and there was to be a unit meeting most of Friday.
So, how long could dinner last, right?
I got home about 9:30. I sat down at the papers, and fell asleep. I don't remember going to bed, but the papers never got filled out.
Friday I got home from work and started on the papers. I finished right at five, and called my lawyer's Springfield office.
They were closing in a minute or two, but they had a slot in the door and besides, my lawyer got sick in court and had to be driven home by her husband. From the way they talked, I didn't think my lawyer would be in court Monday.
Mike had called from Columbia a week earlier and told me about a car for sale.
Charlie's mother's car supposedly needed some unspecified big budget items replaced, so Charlie paid Mike's brother $500.00 for an 88 Celebrity and had the brakes fixed, the alternator and fuel pump replaced, and tuned it up and cleaned it up.
Charlie's mom didn't want a different car. She wanted hers fixed. And the Chevy gone.
So I drove down there Saturday and paid $500 for the car. Mike would have driven it back for me he said, but it was slick and snowy and he was drunk.
It runs nice, except it needs shocks. Probably cost as much as I paid for the car. I left Mike's and drove home in the snow.
I got home fairly early. I ate dinner, and about 10:00 went down to Dempsey’s to see if there was any music. There was; Joe Frew was playing.
And the one dollar Rolling Rocks are back! Woohoo!
Monday reared its dreary head this morning in anticipation of the pending divorce. I went to the courtroom, put my stuff in the tray, shoved my coat into the X-Ray box, and walked through the metal detector as half a dozen or more armed people stood around directing more normal, unarmed people.
I found my way to the same floor I had been on during the previous hearing, and found when asking that I was on the wrong floor.
I got to the seventh floor and found the courtroom, and sat in front of a very unattractive woman who smiled at me broadly, as if to say “fuck me now!”
I shuddered, and smiled weakly back and sat down.
The hearing was at nine, and by ten after I didn't see my lawyer or the judge.
Finally a bailiff said “all rise” and the judge said “sit down”. The judge then spoke to lawyers and the court reporter and somebody said something about some guy in jail.
I asked the bailiff if I was in the right courtroom. He checked with the court reporter, and I was indeed in the right place. No lawyer.
They brought a long haired, bearded prisoner wearing blue jeans and a flannel shirt from a side door. The guy had spent the last three weeks in jail over a typo!
This fellow was adamant that his child support payments were taken out of his paycheck just like the court order said.
After the court reporter and a District Attorney and some other guys in suits who I couldn't figure out talked about and mulled over a piece of paper on the judge's bench, the judge finally said “but look here, this Court Order is obviously in error.”
It seems from what I could gather, not being a lawyer and all, that they were only taking half the amount from his paycheck, but the payroll slip reflected what the judge had said.
“Calm down,” the judge said, “you're getting out. But if you're not here on January 15th we'll put out another bench warrant on you.”
They took him out a door on the other side.
“Is there anybody here for... mcgrew?”
I stood up and walked forward. Its lawyer wasn't here, either!
“Yes sir, uh, your on'er. I, uh, my lawyer's not here, I think she's...”
“OK, OK,” says the judge. “Who's next?”
I sat back down, and some black fellow got divorced. His ex wasn't there, nor did he have a lawyer. It took five minutes.
I should have done that! Although you have to be separated for over two years before you can get divorced without your wife's permission.
My lawyer finally came in, along with Satan's lawyer. The black guy was free from slavery, and I was next!
The judge made me raise my hand and swear, although no bible was evident to swear on.
The Air Force, marriage, divorce... I hate raising my right hand!
My lawyer asked my name, age, where I was married (the Old Cahokia Courthouse, oldest court house in or west of the Mississippi Valley) and was I sure that counseling would not make me want to change my mind.
“We tried counseling. That's when I found out about her adultery, which is in fact what our ‘irreconcilable differences’ are,” I said.
“Oh,” the judge says.
“I have no further questions, your honor.”
“No Questions,” Lucifer's shyster said at the judge's nod.
And it was over. There is to be one more hearing before the first of the year, and I'll be completely single, after over a year after she left. And then speaking with my lawyer afterward, Evil-X gets part of my pension! Yep, that's law. And no child support, since Leila's living with her mother and still going to high school, even though she's 18.
The bank will be taking my house at a completely unrelated hearing tomorrow morning. They already repossessed my van (which had a broken transmission anyway).
But... freedom! Liberty! At the cost of most of everything I own, at the cost of personal bankruptcy, at the cost of about fourteen hundred bucks in legal fees IF I don't fight for custody...
I took an extra happy pill when I got back to work. It didn't work too well.