Frequent Citations

Mild Panic Looks Like A Clean Desk

I've been a busy girl.  I average plenty of billable hours, and count myself fortunate for every one.  But this morning, due to a dawdling opponent, one Partner being on vacation, and another Partner being a little to busy to get back to me about a memo, I found myself with nothing to do but either clean my desk or work on my bar application.

It goes without saying that my desk is now spic and span, not a stray paper in sight.  Redwelds are labeled, papers are sorted, surfaces are cleared.  I like a clean and tidy space, but this I find a little frightening.

I managed to scrounge hours here and there, worked on a pro bono matter, and ended up near a respectable eight hours.  But ye gods.  Even knowing that it was a fluke and I have plenty of work ahead of me, today made me nervous.

And before my mother has a heart attack, I finished filling out my bar application tonight.  Tomorrow I'll call people for affidavits (YOU may be one of the lucky ones to get a call! You could already be a winner!) and see if I can get my driving records.

I also realized how old I will be when I finish paying my student loans if I'm not able to pay them off sooner.  I'm still whimpering. 

The First Step

I admit it.  I have a problem, and I can't control myself.

I'm addicted to colored tabs.

I've been assembling another binder, and before I knew it I had the yellow tabs for dates and the orange tabs for privilege and red tabs for hot and . . . What can I say?  I have a colorful binder.  But at least I can find key dates in an instant, and see at a glance if we've gotten any documents from certain sources for that date.  There's a method to my madness.

In other news:  I advise against having two major projects with simultaneous production dates.  This advice may or may not be related to the lack of content around here lately.

And in other other news:  we've given up on selling the flat.  We've taken it off the market and GirlChild will be moving back there with a friend whose lease is up and, we hope, one of her cousins in the fall.  It could be much worse; at least we can take the edge off the monthly bite and GirlChild will take good care of the place.  But I confess that I refuse to figure out if we're under water on it.  We owe what we owe, and some day the market will start moving again.  (I think it's worth more than we owe, still, but the problem is no one is buying at any price.)