Oven Gremlins

          I got a fun surprise upon checking the messages at work this morning. Typically there are maybe four to seven messages when I come in. There were nineteen today, and only seven were of the usual variety. The remainder were from a former client I'll refer to as Misery. They were left around 5:30 a.m., and I listened to only two before mashing the "save" button so Jeremy could deal with them in an appropriate manner. What I did listen to was a nearly incoherent ramble about the Vatican, the spread of Communism in the United States, and how "you three are responsible for every murder." You simply cannot make this shit up. I spent much of the rest of the day in a field trip to court, where I observed witness testimony for a case in which we are serving as defense. Before we could be heard, there were two proceedings which took about five minutes each, presided over by a terse Professor McGonagall-type judge. Our client is being sued for a faulty septic system that backed up through a bathtub and elsewhere, spectacularly and horrendously. The witness in question is an official with the Water & Sewer Department, a Northeastern grad, and quite knowledgeable about what happens when septic pipes aren't correctly maintained. I kept further notes during the testimony on my legal pad, but these were unfortunately lost when I got a new one, and thus ends my account of work for the day. I should also mention that the Edward W. Brooke Courthouse is an impressive building. First off, it's huge. I experienced vertigo just peering into the atrium from the fourth floor. Second, it's white marble or something that looks like it, with all the grandeur that style carries. And third, it's somehow both airy and crushing at the same time -- which was probably what the architect intended, given its purpose.
          I passed out after work for four hours or so, and on waking I wandered into the kitchen to make food. Passing near the oven, I felt very hot and noticed that it was set to "Bake" at "Clean" temperature. This is the second time the oven has been left on under mysterious circumstances -- I rarely use it, and Gary categorically denied using it after work. Irritatingly enough, the "on" light goes off after the oven reaches the desired temperature, which only serves to help you forget that it's on. Detective work would have to wait, since hunger was the most important drive at that moment; I obliged my stomach with a quesadilla on a tomato basil wrap, including burnt chicken (I am an overcautious cook), Mexican cheese blend, tomato, pesto, lemon juice and a sprinkle of sage. And it was good.
          Quote of the day:
Me: "Don't be alone in the room with the oven."
Gary: "If you see the oven walking toward you, leave."