I’d post my new year’s resolutions for you to ponder but I quit making those darn things a long time ago.  I never kept them, anyway.  Nah, it just wasn’t worth the effort.

Instead, I’ll post my wish list for 2012.  I’d love to hear yours as well.  Comment away.

In no particular order (translated to mean: as the thoughts pop into my brain, I will type them here) …

I wish that people would dress appropriately when appearing in court.  Other than the folks forced to wear those nifty tan or orange jumpsuits, the rest of the attendees should honestly have a bit more respect for those hallowed courthouses.  I’ve had it with people in ripped jeans and dirty tee-shirts.  I understand that not everyone can afford a suit and tie … I’d be happy if they just tucked in their darn tee-shirts!  And ladies (I use the term quite loosely here) … this is not a street corner.  ‘Nuf said.  I’m expected to dress appropriately.  I expect my clients to dress appropriately.  Why isn’t everyone expected to dress appropriately?

I wish that the bi-partisan system would stop being such a roadblock to accomplishing anything.  It is starting to border on the ridiculous that we actually bother to elect politicians to serve the public interest.  These days, I’m not certain whose interest they are serving.  It doesn’t feel like mine.

I wish that the government (federal, state and local) would realize that small businesses can’t be taxed to death and still hope to survive.  Nor can those same over-taxed small businesses afford to hire employees at fair wages and be able to extend much-needed (and much deserved) benefits to them.  How about a break?  Small businesses are important to the economy.  Let’s start encouraging them rather than working so hard to eradicate them.  I watch in horror as long-time mom and pop shops close because they can’t compete in this weak economy against corporate businesses that have no genuine interest in the community.  When those corporate businesses realize that they have expanded too quickly, they shut their doors, leaving the community without the goods and services they need.  That must change.  I’m thinking about one family-owned restaurant that shut its doors when the chain restaurants moved into town.  In just a few years, something like 5 chain restaurants have occupied that same space.  The mom and pop eatery had been around for more than 20 years.   Do the math.

I wish that we would observe a true separation between church and state.  Rights and freedoms should not be subject to the views of the religious groups able to produce the most funding.  I hope the 2012 candidates will figure that out.

I wish that Connecticut would give its welfare program a long, hard look.  There are thousands of people who honestly need the assistance … and double that many people who are just scamming the system.  Our tax dollars should be directed toward helping those who are truly in need, not to finance the lives of those who have somehow developed the mentality that they are entitled to a free ride.  Public assistance was not meant to be a lifestyle. It was meant to help people get by during difficult times.

I wish that self-employed people would not be taxed as both employee and employer.  In this economy, it’s certain death.  Given the state’s unemployment rate, many more people are marketing their skills as self-employed workers.  Give them an incentive to succeed and grow.  Their success will benefit the overall economy in the long run.

I wish I were an Oscar Myer wiener.

[I typed that to see if you're still awake ...]

I wish you all a happy, healthy and prosperous 2012.

Farewell, 2011.

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Disclaimer: The information, comments and links posted on the blog do not constitute legal advice. I will not respond to any specific legal questions in the comments section of this blog. Read my entire disclaimer.

copyright 2011 Irene C. Olszewski

The down side to walking to my office is that it is located on a busy main road, just a couple of hundred feet from the main 4-way intersection.  I’m always trying to cross that darn road at the peak of rush hour traffic, which is no easy feat.

I’m reminded of that old arcade classic, Frogger.  I’m the frog.

Why don’t I use the cross walk at the intersection?  Well, dear readers, I tried that a few times.  I don’t mind walking 200 feet to the right in order to cross 20 feet of road and then walk 200 feet back to be standing directly in front of my office on the other side of the street.  I told you, I enjoy the exercise.

Actually, it’s the motor vehicle traffic that deters me from using the cross walk.  You see, it’s legal to make a right on red after stopping at a light in Connecticut.  I like that law when I’m the driver.  Not so much as the pedestrian.  The overhead traffic lights don’t turn white to tell the drivers that the walk signs on the other poles are illuminated.  The drivers stop briefly at their respective red lights and head right without even considering that I’m trying to cross the street.  I’ve almost become that frog a few times. I gave up on the cross walk.

These days, I take my chances.

To complicate matters, there is a bus stop directly in front of my office (also on the opposite side of the street where I begin my crossing ritual in the morning).  Buses continually stop for me.  I wave them on.  The drivers and passengers always seem annoyed.  Even when I try to stand away from the darn bus stop, the buses stop.  Perhaps I should hold up a sign:  DON’T STOP! I’M NOT WAITING FOR A BUS!  It’s an idea.

Last night, as I made the trek home on foot, I waited to cross the street for what seemed an eternity.  Traffic was worse than usual.  I’d almost have an opening and then somebody would dart out of the side street across the way, always making a left.  That blocked my safe passage.  Then the light would change and 3 billion cars would hurry through at break-neck pace.

I considered venturing half way out into the road, into the clear lane — then make a mad dash for the safety of the other side.  Not a good plan.  Remember the frog.

Motorists are not so nice during rush hour.  It’s even worse when we return to Eastern Standard Time and my journey is made in the dark.  I should probably wear some reflective clothing.  It’s on my list of things to buy.  Yeah.

Last night, some guy started honking at me.  I hadn’t even begun to step off the curb.  I must have looked suicidal. He wasn’t taking any chances.  I smiled and waved.  He flipped me off.  Not nice at all.

I save a bundle on gasoline these days.  The wear and tear on my feet has increased.  Driving less miles to work has also lowered my auto insurance premiums.

With Frogger in mind, perhaps I should use those savings to buy more life insurance.

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Disclaimer: The information, comments and links posted on the blog do not constitute legal advice. I will not respond to any specific legal questions in the comments section of this blog. Read my entire disclaimer.

copyright 2011 Irene C. Olszewski

At approximately 6:30 p.m., the power flickers then goes out. I hold my breath. It comes on again almost immediately, then flickers one last time and dies. I don’t know it at the time but it will be several days before I have the luxury of power.

I spend a long night keeping warm by the fireplace in my living room and listening to the creaks and groans of the trees as their branches are weighted down with heavy snow and ice. One crash after another fills the eerie quiet as branches fall to the ground.

My phone line is ripped from the house some time around 9 p.m. I now have no land line. Honestly, I never use the thing and only have it because of my DSL connection. I had planned to use it during the storm to communicate with friends who would be conserving cell phone batteries until the power could be restored. Nope, not an option now.

Day 2: Annoyance.

I awaken on Sunday to fallen branches, trees torn out by the roots and downed utility lines as far as the eye can see. There’s a downed wire across my driveway to the right and a few others to the left. Trees are blocking the road. It is impossible to leave my yard. Okay, this is going to be a long day.

I am optimistic that the power will come on some time soon. By tonight, I’ll be able to watch a movie or surf on the internet.

I haul more wood into the house and light the fire. With the fireplace to warm us and a gas stove on which to prepare food, we’ll make it through the day. I’m not worried.

By nightfall, the power is still not restored. We hunt down more candles and some old oil lamps. When they actually light the room, we are thrilled. I drag yet more wood into the house. My level of annoyance has increased significantly.

At bedtime, I realize that I will once again have to sleep on the sofa if I’m going to avoid freezing while I slumber. I have frightening visions of frostbite and let the awful thoughts go. For a second night, I will dress as if I’m about to explore the frozen tundra by dogsled. I can endure one more night.  Barely.

The inconvenience of yesterday has moved up the scale to annoyance.

Day 3: Frustration.

It’s a work day. The power is still off. That means no hot shower and no coffee to jump start my day. I’m already feeling frustrated. Dressing in the cold does not please me. In fact, it sours my mood rather quickly.

I can’t get out of my yard via automobile and must walk to work. Thankfully, it’s a short walk.

I arrive bundled in heavy sweat pants, a wool sweater and a parka. My assistant assures me that I’ve worn the right outfit given that there is no heat. It’s a toasty 45 degrees inside.

The power is out. That means no computers, no fax machine and no lights. I am dismayed to learn that because I have Comcast service, my phones won’t work. I have 1 corded phone that does not require electricity, along with 2 cordless phones that do. I unplug the cordless phones but no dice. Apparently, Comcast phone service doesn’t run without electricity. I have AT&T at home and my corded land line would have been working had the line not been ripped off my house. Frustration level rises.

I am most unhappy. It’s Monday — the busiest day of the week — and there is no way to make or receive calls at the office. Perfect.

It doesn’t take long to realize that not much can happen at the office today. When I finally make my way home, the house is colder inside than the outside temperature. I begrudgingly haul in a load of firewood and crank up the fire.

Several people show up to share dinner and warm themselves by our hearth. It’s another long night of stoking the fire and waiting for the miracle of power to return. Batteries on the flashlights are starting to die and it’s a pain running around trying to find replacement batteries. I’m also tired of putting oil into the lamps. Everyone is taking turns charging their cell phones in the car. At least we have some form of communication device.

By nighty night time, I’m settled in on the sofa, still bundled up like an Arctic explorer.

The annoyance of day 2 has firmly elevated to frustration.

Day 4: Anger.

I am quite put out when I awaken yet again to a cold house. Clearly, my power is still A.W.O.L. I am angry.

There will be no hot coffee. No hot shower. Heck, there won’t even be hot clothes! Trying to dress in the cold has gotten old.

The office is still without power, phones and internet. I must find a place to charge my laptop so I can at least work on client files. I have to wait until the road has been cleared of the trees and lines. There are crews out there on my street so perhaps my days of being held hostage will end.

Late in the afternoon, I am able to get out of my driveway and escape through a barely passable strip of road that is littered with branches and fallen wires. It’s a tad frightening but I am eager to find civilization in the form of a warm hotel lobby. Traffic lights are not working and the roads are an absolute nightmare.

I gratefully receive permission to set up a mobile office at a hotel around the corner that has emergency power in its lobby only. I charge my laptop and use their complimentary wi-fi to check my e-mails. I do all of this while seated on a plush sofa before an ambient fire. It’s warm and I have a cup of hot coffee. For the moment, I’m content. This will not last long.

I go to the office and am unhappy to learn that the generator my landlord set up isn’t working. It is cold and dark. I put away my files and head home.

Haul wood, light candles and lanterns, put on the Artic Explorer gear. Bore myself to tears with another long night of Little House On The Prairie-esque inconveniences. I want the power back and I want it now.

I’m no longer frustrated, I’m down right angry.

Day 5: Desperation.

Today is my birthday. There should be power for my birthday. There is no power. I am desperate for power. I am desperate for heat. I am desperate for the phones in my office to work.

After a brief visit to the office to collect files, I return to the make-shift office I am again allowed to set up in the lobby of the hotel. This time, I am pleased to learn that the hotel’s power has been restored. I am able to sit at a corner table in the restaurant. It’s easier to work in this new space.

I charge every electronic item I own while I am working away on my fully-charged laptop. I actually finish drafting the Will I have been working on. I’m pleased.

When I return home, I am tired. The house is freezing. It is my birthday. Does anyone care that I want power on right now?

Mercifully, I will be taken out for dinner at a nice restaurant. One that has power. And heat. I don’t rush through dinner. The owner graciously offers us an after-dinner drink. On the house. I think he feels bad for me.

Later, I return to the frozen cave I call home. By now, we’ve gotten smarter. We’ve hauled a ton of wood inside. It sits in the hallway waiting to be dragged to the fireplace.

Thanks to my trusty cell phone, I am able to retrieve all of my birthday wishes from Facebook. It cheers me. I have good friends. They are also mostly still without power.

I sleep on the sofa, buried under a mountain of heavy blankets. I awaken several times during the night, wondering if life as I previously knew it will ever return.

Frustration has given way to desperation.

Day 6: Relief.

I crawl out of my burrow and am stunned to see that the lamp on the end table is illuminated. I am half asleep and I do not believe this at first. I look at the other lamp and it, too, is illuminated. The lights on the stereo system are on.

I am giddy with excitement as I race around the house turning on lights. After several frantic moments, I am satisfied that the power has actually returned.

CL&P decided to give me a belated birthday present. I’m happy. I’m also relieved.

I text my assistant that the power is on and I will be in as soon as I’ve taken a much needed shower. I do not plan to conserve water today. No, I will luxuriate in a long, lingering, hot, steamy shower.

My assistant checks her watch as I walk into the office. I told you I was going to take a long shower. She laughs. The power has been restored .but the phones are still out. I call Comcast and am told there’s still a problem in the area. The phones should be on soon.

It’s quiet in the office but at least it’s warm and bright.

At home, I enjoy heat without having to tend to the fire. I put away the candles and flashlights. I sleep in my bed for the first time in days. I don pjs instead of Arctic Explorer gear. I sleep like a baby.

Desperation has turned to relief.

Day 7: Whatever.

Still no phone or internet at the office. Otherwise, life is good.

Days 8 to 9: Weekend.

Day 10: All Is Well.

I arrive at the office today and am elated to discover that the phone service has been restored at long last! That means I will have an internet connection, too. Ah, life is finally back to normal after 10 very long days.

Epilogue:
There are still people without power and utilities. Winter Storm Alfred was a cruel and devastating one. Thanks to everyone for their patience while we were incapacitated. This week will be one of catching up and trying to do everything that couldn’t be done last week.

It will be a tough one, if today is any indication.

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Follow Attorney O’s Midnight Musings blog on Facebook for all blog posts as well as additional stories and links of interest.  Be sure to LIKE our page.

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Follow the Law Offices of Irene C. Olszewski, LLC on Facebook for all posts from both of my blogs as well as additional stories and links.  Be sure to LIKE our page.

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Disclaimer: The information, comments and links posted on the blog do not constitute legal advice. I will not respond to any specific legal questions in the comments section of this blog. Read my entire disclaimer.

copyright 2011 Irene C. Olszewski

Penney High was the second high school to be built in the town where I grew up.  The first class graduated in 1965 and the last in 1985.  The town closed the original high school, moved it to the Penney High building and suddenly, I no longer had an alma mater.  I wasn’t happy about it then and I’m not happy about it now. My fellow Knights share my frustration.

Over the years, there have been plenty of class reunions.  I’ve attended a couple of them and missed others.  I’ve never been big on class reunions.  Until now, that is.

Some wonderful graduates of Penney (or “PHS” as it was known), decided that it would be fun to hold a giant class reunion for all 20 graduating classes at the same time.  (You know who you are folks!!)  When word got out that such an event was in the planning stages, the excitement started.  One by one, new alumni found their way to the special Mega-Reunion page on Facebook.  We all began reconnecting.  For some, it had been decades since they last spoke to fellow graduates.  Others had maintained contact over the years.  Some of us met other alumni for the first time.  That experience was wonderful in and of itself.

The George J. Penney High School Mega-Reunion was held yesterday at High Meadow Resort in North Granby, Connecticut.  Something like 500 of my fellow PHS Knights attended.  It was amazing.

Class reunions are usually a mixed bag.  People often hesitate to attend because they feel uncomfortable.  It’s that whole ‘what do I wear’ thing that convinces most people to forget about it and stay home.  This mega-reunion was unique.  It was an outdoor event with very casual dress.  People wore jeans and shorts.  Everyone felt comfortable.  Nobody had to spend endless hours in some store trying on a zillion outfits.  It was simple.  I like when life is simple.

Others have told me that they don’t attend class reunions  because they only knew one or two people from their own graduating class.  In high school, they hung out with friends from other classes. That was true for many of the attendees at the mega-reunion.  We all seemed to have a mixture of friends from our own class and the classes before and after ours.  The mega-reunion have us a chance to inter-mix all of the classes and relive plenty of old memories.

It was amusing to watch people walk around trying to look at other people’s name tags.  We were all searching for familiar faces from decades ago and wondering if we might actually recognize someone.  It was wonderful when those faces turned out to be old friends from the past.  For me, it had been 33 years since I saw many of them.  Yeah, I know, I’m older than I want to be right now.  Don’t rub it in.

Toward the end of the day, we all gathered for a giant class photo.  As several people snapped pictures and recorded video, the giant class burst into song:  “Penney High we pledge to thee, strength and loyalty … “  Someone lead one of the old football cheers:  “We are the Knights … mighty might Knights … everywhere we go people want to know … who we are … so we tell them … We are the Knights … mighty mighty Knights …”  Everyone remembered the words.  It was as if we were right back in high school again.

Many thanks to Russ and the committee for their hard work and tireless efforts.  We’re already excited about the next mega-reunion!

In the end, I’m writing this post today because although I’ve been in my office doing lawyer work all day, I am still smiling from the excitement of yesterday’s mega-reunion.  It was fun to be 17 again.

I highly recommend it.

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Disclaimer: The information, comments and links posted on the blog do not constitute legal advice. I will not respond to any specific legal questions in the comments section of this blog. Read my entire disclaimer.

copyright 2011 Irene C. Olszewski

In a few hours, my work day will end until Monday. Normally, I am off on Fridays but due to the short week, I came in to get caught up on that giant pile of work that threatens to cave in the top of my desk. I’m glad I came in. I accomplished a lot today so far. I plan to thoroughly enjoy my two days off. I hope that anyone lucky enough to have the weekend off will also enjoy it.

Monday will be here soon enough.

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Disclaimer: The information, comments and links posted on the blog do not constitute legal advice. I will not respond to any specific legal questions in the comments section of this blog. Read my entire disclaimer.

copyright 2011 Irene C. Olszewski

I bring this up because today, I received an overdraft notice on one of my conserved person’s checking accounts.  That’s not a usual occurrence; in fact, it doesn’t happen at all.  Obviously, it raised an alarm in my office.

Here’s the “I love the internet” part of the story … I immediately logged onto the bank’s website and within seconds discovered why the account was overdrawn.

Now, here’s the “I hate the internet” part of the story … One of my conserved persons decided (without bothering to mention it to me first) to apply via the internet for 1) a loan and 2) a credit card.  On the surface, that might not seem so bad.  It is.

First, this particular person is on a limited fixed income.  Paying back a loan isn’t possible if I am still going to pay the regular bills (rent, utilities, food).  For the privilege of applying, the internet folks popped him 30 bucks.  It came right out of the checking account. In doing so, it left the account with a negative balance.  Let’s not forget the overdraft fee and the daily fee for carrying that negative balance.  Oh yeah, and all those checks that either bounced or will be bouncing until the nice folks at the Social Security Administration make the next direct deposit into the account on Friday.

As if that weren’t bad enough, he also applied for a credit card with a guaranteed $9,500 credit limit.  Approved in a flash, even without good credit (or a job, for that matter).  For that privilege, the account was charged 89 bucks.

Fortunately, there were telephone numbers listed next to the transactions.  I immediately rang up the 30 dollar folks and blasted them from here to eternity.  The nice lady on the other end understood that my conserved person had no authority to originate a loan — nor to authorize a debit from a protected checking account — and she was all to happy to return the 30 bucks and cancel the loan.  First, she asked if she could explain the benefits of the program to me!  Uh, no.  She flagged the system to refuse any further loan applications from my conserved person.  The money will supposedly be returned to the account in 7 to 10 business days.  She gave me a confirmation number.  I’ll hold my breath now.

The second number rang off the hook and nobody bothered to answer.  Granted, it was almost 6:00 Eastern Time when I made the call.  My assistance Googled the company and found another phone number.  That one connected her to a recording that promised immediate approval and a credit line of up to $9500.  She did a bit of quick research and in seconds found a scam alert on the ‘net (the reason I love the internet).  According to those already scammed by said credit card company, the so-called credit card they issue isn’t accepted by any reputable retailers, airlines, car rental places, hotels, restaurants or gas stations.  It’s not accepted by online retailers, either.  It seems that these nice credit card folks have their own website with products for sale that you can purchase using the credit card THEY issue!  It gets better.  You don’t buy the items with credit, you pay cash!  Then they charge your bank account 19 bucks a month to pay for credit bureau reporting fees.  After you’ve made enough purchases, you begin to accumulate credit.

Okay, then.  Sounds like a good deal to me.  How about you?  Can I sign you up for a credit card?  How about a nice bridge in Brooklyn?  I just happen to have one for sale.

My conserved person’s bank account is in the red for a couple hundred bucks at this point.  On a fixed income, that will devastate the budget for the next couple of months.  It will be a nightmare to resolve.

I’m reasonably sure the credit card scam folks are not going to cheerfully refund the 89 bucks.  That means I’ll have to generate a report to the Attorney General’s office and hope for the best.  My conserved person can’t possibly be the only person fooled by the scam.

This will take months to sort out — and months to get the budget back on track.  It’s not going to be fun.  My blood pressure is already feeling the effects of my anger and frustration.

Moral of the story:  If it sounds too good to be true, that’s because it IS!

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Disclaimer: The information, comments and links posted on the blog do not constitute legal advice. I will not respond to any specific legal questions in the comments section of this blog.  Read my entire disclaimer.

The landlord told me this morning that the folks at the power company estimated that our office building would be without power for at least a week.  A week?  Oh my.  That didn’t work for me at all.

No power in the office means we can’t use the computers.  No computers means no Internet.  No Internet means no access to client e-mails.

No power also means no phone system.  That means no calls coming IN and no calls going OUT.  It also means not being able to retrieve voice mails.

No power means no access to the fax machine.  Again, nothing coming in and nothing going out.

Of course, the mail delivery was right on time.  More work that could not be processed today because we had no access to our computer files, telephone or fax machine.  Heck, I couldn’t even use the shredder!

Well, being the kind of gal I am, I made the best of the day.  I’ve been so busy lately that I’ve amassed a lot of large piles on my desk and credenza (and the top of the credenza and the file cabinet in my private office).

“I have to make time to organize this stuff,” I would tell my assistant several times a week.  She’d just smile and nod.  She knows all too well how busy the office can be on an average day.

Today, I had no excuse.  There would be no calls to answer and no calls to return.  I wouldn’t be able to read or answer my e-mails.  The computer was off limits, so there would be no working on files.  Whatever would a lawyer do with a full day of totally uninterrupted time?

“Eureka,” said the lawyer-with-a-full-day-of-totally-uninterrupted-time, “I’ll organize my office!”

And organize, I did.  For 7 straight hours.

There isn’t one scrap of paper out of place on my desk or credenza.  Not one file is out of place.  Junk mail is in the trash.  The shredder box is full of stuff I should have taken the time to shred the day it showed up at the office but never did.  I found a few gazillion yellow pads, each with only a few sheets of paper actually used.  (I hoard yellow pads).  I found a couple dozen pens. (I also hoard pens).

My feet are killing me.  Walking back and forth from the piles in my office to the file cabinets in the conference room to the shredder box in my assistant’s office was actually tiring.  Who knew?

I called the power company at 6:30 p.m. to inquire as to when my law office might actually return to the land of the enlightened.  (Sorry, I couldn’t resist the awful pun).  The nice woman on the other end of the phone explained that it might be as long as a week before anyone had power, due to the massive outages caused by the storm.  No, there wasn’t any time frame she could quote. Was there anything else she could help me with?  Um, no.  I went home to relax.

At 7:00 p.m., I went inside my house to retrieve a pair of reading glasses and noticed that the small lamp next to the computer was lit.  It hadn’t been lit a few moments before.  I stared at the thing for several seconds, wondering why the heck that lamp was lit when the power was out.  I looked to my left and noticed the lights were blazing away in the kitchen area.  The was another light shining in the hallway.  Could it be?  Yes! Yes! Yes!  Joy of joys, the power had been restored!

I immediately went back to the office to confirm that the power — and the phone system — were also on.  They were.  I was thrilled.  I wanted to dance.  I didn’t.  I changed my voice mail greeting instead.

While at the office delighting in the fact that the power had truly been restored, I couldn’t help but smile at my nice, clean desk.  The uncluttered credenza pleased me even more.

Here’s what I learned today:

There’s power in cleaning without power.

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Disclaimer: The information, comments and links posted on the blog do not constitute legal advice. I will not respond to any specific legal questions in the comments section of this blog.  Read my entire disclaimer.

copyright 2011 Irene C. Olszewski

My mom once told me that after I’d had a particularly infuriating fight with my ex on the phone, I came in the house ranting and raving.

“You blew in like a hurricane,” she said.

See?  I’ve had some practice.

Friends are promising to make Hurricane Irene tee-shirts for me.  I’ve gotten more than my share of the “we knew you were full of hot air” jokes this week.  Heck, who can resist busting my butt a little?  I know I wouldn’t be able to stay away from this one with a ten foot pole!

Clients and colleagues have also begun to make Hurricane Irene jokes.  I’ve stopped answering the phone with my usual “this is Attorney Irene” greeting.  Now I beat them all to the punch.  “Hello, this is Hurricane Irene.  How may I help you?”  It saves time.

At least I will have ample warning of the impending craziness this time around.  Not like that whole sudden earthquake thing that happened on Tuesday.  Now that was a scary couple of moments. I posted on my earthquake experience here.

Hurricanes scare me, as well they should.  I’ve lived through a couple of them and didn’t particularly care for the whole experience.  I recall that after Gloria blew through, there was so much debris that people needed chain saws in order to be able to be able to drive down the road.  The power was out for days.

Oh my, the power.  Now that’s the part I hate most.  I have nothing against candle light and conversation but let’s be honest, people, I want my darn iPhone charger to work.  It won’t work if it’s not plugged in.  Sure, I can charge my gosh darn phone in the car but that means I have to turn the car on to power the charger.  Guess I’d better fill that tank after all.

Yikes! My trusty internet connection will be unavailable without the power.  I might actually go into withdrawal if I can’t surf.  Well, yeah, I can surf on my iPhone if the darn thing stays charged but it’s not the same.  My Netflix addiction might rear its ugly head and whatever shall I do without power?  Okay, there’s my iPhone.  But let’s be real.  I want to watch a movie on a nice, big flat screen.  Not my blasted cell phone.  Besides, it will drain the battery faster and then, well, go back and read the previous paragraph for that rant.

Attorney Irene — oops, I mean Hurricane Irene — is coming folks and she’s going to howl her way up the coast.  When it’s over, I’ll endure plenty more ribbing.  I’d just prefer it to be in the nature of “hey, you fizzled out, Hurricane Irene” or “I thought you had more hot air than that” — you know, those snide little jokes that mean I didn’t fair so well as a hurricane.  That would be a way better than things like “you turned out to be a heck of a home wrecker” or “wow, remind me stay out of your way the next time you blow through town.”

No matter how it goes, I won’t live it down for a while.  Perhaps I should consider changing my law office’s slogan to ‘Attorney Irene will handle your case with the force of a category 3 hurricane.’

It’s catchy, don’t you think?

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Disclaimer: The information, comments and links posted on the blog do not constitute legal advice. I will not respond to any specific legal questions in the comments section of this blog.  Read my entire disclaimer.

copyright 2011 Irene C. Olszewski

You know you’re having a bad day when you haven’t slept well the night before but you still have to drag yourself out of bed and attempt to pry your eyes open without the assistance of toothpicks.

You know you’re having a bad day when your headache is pounding so loud that the neighbors are accusing you of disturbing the peace.

You know you’re having a bad day when you’ve been struggling to balance a huge account and 1 + 1 = 3 no matter how hard you try to make it equal 2.  (Okay, so I’m mathematically challenged to begin with).

You know you’re having a bad day when every phone call that comes into the office brings with it another crisis that has to be solved right now.

You know you’re having a bad day when you forgot to eat breakfast and there’s no time for lunch because the client is already in your waiting room.

You know you’re having a bad day when you finally get out of work and find out that the DSL modem at your house has just died and all you wanted to do was curl up on the couch and watch something on Netflix.  (That fiasco consumed 3 hours of my night.  I had to buy a new modem and never did get to crash on the couch).

You know you’re having a bad day when you’ve been up for so long that another decade has gone by without you noticing.

Ah … it’s late (or early, depending on your perspective).  Today’s bad day is over.  I can hardly wait until tomorrow.

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Disclaimer: The information, comments and links posted on the blog do not constitute legal advice. I will not respond to any specific legal questions in the comments section of this blog.  Read my entire disclaimer.

copyright 2011 Irene C. Olszewski

I was deep in thought (which is scary all on its own) when all of a sudden, I felt my chair rocking back in forth.  I thought it strange because I was not rocking the chair, I was actually sitting still.  I’m rather sure I’d know if I were rocking the chair.

The chair continued to rock back and forth and I thought perhaps I was experiencing an episode of vertigo.  I’ve never actually had vertigo. mind you, other than that quick rush one feels when standing up quickly after bending down.  But hey, I felt the chair moving beneath me and vertigo seemed plausible.

I looked around the room and observed that none of the pictures on the walls were moving.  The trees just outside my window weren’t moving, either.  This was not good.  As the chair continued to rock, I became concerned that perhaps my supposed vertigo might actually be some type of major medical emergency.  A stroke?  Heart attack?  I was getting nervous.  I stood up and realized that the floor was also moving beneath me.  I went from nervous to scared in a flash.

I walked to the doorway of my office and noted that my assistant was on the phone.  She was rocking back and forth in her chair, which is something she does often.  She seemed not to notice that the floor was moving beneath her.  Hmm.  Could she be making the floor in my office move?  I thought not.  I shuffled back to my chair and found that it was still rocking even before I sat down again.

Could this be a poltergeist?  I’ve viewed my share of horror films over the years and the thought of a poltergeist taking over my law office didn’t thrill me.  The medical emergency with me as the victim didn’t thrill me much, either.

I got up and saw that my assistant was just finishing her call.

“Something’s not right,” I explained.

Then I sat in one of the chairs in the waiting area.  It was moving beneath me, too.  I was starting to feel queasy.

I was about to tell my assistant to call 9-1-1 when we both heard someone running up the stairs.  The man from the office on the lower level of our building burst in to the office.  He usually knocks first.

“The building is moving!”  he exclaimed.  He looked frightened.

Sudden relief washed over me.  I was not experiencing this strange moment alone.  The building was moving.  It had apparently been moving for close to seven minutes at that point.

I ran to grab my keys and instructed my assistant to grab her things and get the heck out of the building.  She didn’t hesitate.  I don’t think we walked down the stairs, we took flight.  I hadn’t realized this middle-aged lawyer could move that fast!

We met up with the guy from the other office in the parking lot only seconds later.  We all stared at the building and wondered if it was going to suddenly fall over or something equally weird.  It didn’t move.  There was no wind blowing — or anything out of the ordinary going on.  We walked around the perimeter to see if perhaps the building was doing some strange sort of settling.  Nothing was amiss.  Our building had moved for seven very long minutes — of that we were sure — and just as suddenly, all was normal again.

My assistant made a call on her cell phone and was told that there had been an earthquake.  Some State buildings in Hartford (one town away) were apparently being evacuated.

An earthquake?  Huh?

When we were all reasonably sure that the building wasn’t going to start moving again, we went back inside.  In my office, we were both immediately on the internet looking for some news.  I’m sure the guy in the office below us was doing the same.

My assistant shouted to me that an earthquake had hit the D.C. area.  We had actually felt the tremors all the way up here in East Hartford, Connecticut.  Wow.  I didn’t like that thought.

As you might expect, friends and family were calling and texting each other to determine who had felt the tremors.  Earthquakes aren’t exactly an every day event where I live.  Some people hadn’t felt a thing.  They also hadn’t heard yet the news.  At least two others I spoke to told me that they, too, had felt the movement and also believed they were having a heart attack or something.  They were equally relieved that it hadn’t been a serious medical issue.

Nobody else mentioned the possibility of a poltergeist.  I guess they don’t watch horror movies.

In the aftermath of our little moment of terror, I found myself grateful that a few minutes of a small tremor was all I had experienced.  It scared the living heck out of me, let me tell you.  I hope I never feel my building moving again.

On a very serious note, I sincerely hope that those who were right in the middle of the earthquake are safe.  My thoughts and prayers go out to each one of you.

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Disclaimer: The information, comments and links posted on the blog do not constitute legal advice. I will not respond to any specific legal questions in the comments section of this blog.  Read my entire disclaimer.

copyright 2011 Irene C. Olszewski