One of the problems being a lawyer is that you have to see too many lawyers. As I've said on this site many times, I like lawyers, but my life would benefit by mixing it up a bit. What about a conversation with an English professor, for example, or a musician? I write, I play the guitar--hey, I'd have something to add to the conversation. I could hold a conversation with a riverboat pilot, a corporate CEO, or a circus clown--bring it on!
This week, though, it was all about lawyers. I counted them in my head: I had conversations with thirty, at least, just at this week's meeting of the Madison County Bar Association. Throw into the mix two meetings with my old partners, one in their offices, one in a bar; a deposition; a settlement meeting--it was enough lawyers to populate a sinking ship or a burning building.
I'm joking, of course. The conversations, by and large, were interesting, if you like talking about politics or the business of law. Generally, I do. This week, though, all those lawyers wore me out. They've already made me forget that I spent most of the week at home, helping with the new baby. Of course, my wife's a lawyer too, so while trying to get Sam to eat, we had some necessary conversations about her clients, the ones I'm supposed to be helping now that she's taking some time off.
Only my mother-in-law and my other children provided a little ballast to right this week's conversational imbalance. This weekend, I plan to read some books. It will be a direct infusion of non-lawyer voices into my head, and relief will wash over me--sort of like Rush must have felt when he was popping those Vicodins.*
*I mean, allegedly popping those Vicodins.