14 August 2007


I was at my lawyer's this morning, signing some contracts (don't you love the way I write "at my lawyer's" as if I have a lawyer independent of this one very specific transaction I hired him for? I always love the moment on crime dramas when, as the Lenny Briscoe character is putting the cuffs on, the bad guy says to his secretary or his girlfriend in the cut-off shorts and tank top who made the mistake of opening the door to the cops, "call my lawyer," as if that person is on speed dial. Who are these people who have personal lawyers?) and while I was waiting for him to get off the phone, I read the top page of a contract that happened to be within easy sight.

The contract was unusual looking, in that it looked typed instead of printed, which was explained when I saw the date in the first paragraph -- 1988. Though there was no heading on it that said this, as I read it it became clear that it was a pre-nup, because it outlined what property would remain in individual ownership after the marriage. I can only imagine it was on my lawyer's desk because the signatories were getting a divorce.



Anonymous Anonymous said...

That is just heart-wrenching. A document like that provides so little actual information, but facilitates so much speculation.

10:12 AM  
Blogger Stuntmother said...

To plan for the worst and hope for the best might be sage advice EXCEPT when getting married when it strikes me that pretty much we should roll into it with our eyes shut and our heads flung back, laughing all the way, arms open to the wind.

Not like I'm advocating getting drunk and hitched in Vegas. I just mean that some things should not begin with the end tucked neatly into an envelope.

10:56 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Right on, Stuntmother!
Commit or do not commit.
Maybe's not enough.

9:49 AM  

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