The Creature With Two Brains

I have an interesting life.

During the course of the day today, I:

Counseled a client on limited partnership ownership structure and tax filing requirements applicable to limited liability company general partners in non-community property states;

Completed initial sketches for an acrylic-on-canvas quadtych featuring images from Calef Brown's book of children's poetry, "Polka-Bats and Octopus Slacks," that will serve as the centerpiece for a 10-top table;

Researched recent changes in the laws applicable to Texas homeowners' associations;

Traded e-mails about floral centerpieces for an entirely unrelated event;

Revised a purchase contract for a piece of commercial real estate;

Considered the optimal logistics for orienting a life-sized tipi in the median of the circular drive at Ridglea Country Club;

Analyzed the issue of whether the concept of "personal injury" includes "death"; and

Shopped online for life-sized replicas of pack animals.

The weird thing is, this is not a weird day by my current definition.  This is an average day.  When I take the time to contemplate my life (which, for some reason, I did just a few minutes ago), I realize that, basically, abnormal is my normal. 

And I'm okay with that.  I work best when my right and left brains are both fully engaged.  Otherwise, one of them feels left out, and gets whiny.

For the record, my initial thought was that death is kinda the end-all, be-all of personal injuries.  But then I got all lawyer-y in my head:  technically, death isn't an injury.  It's a consequence of an injury. So the phrase "personal injury (including death) and property damage" in the context of an indemnity clause is a bit of a clunker.  It ought to read "personal injury (including personal injury resulting in death) and property damage," which, I think, would effectively clarify that DEATH IS NOT A LOOPHOLE, which appears to be my opposing counsel's concern.  (Interesting.  "We agree to indemnify you against personal injury.  Unless you die, in which case, what the heck else do you have to complain about?  It's not like you're still suffering.  YOU'VE BEEN PUT OUT OF YOUR MISERY.  Seriously, quit whining already.")

The really tragic thing is that Left Brain Me looks at the substitute language that I proposed above and thinks that it ACTUALLY needs to read "personal injury (including, but not limited to, personal injury resulting in death) and property damage)," so that it is clear that the example given of personal injury resulting in death is illustrative, but not exhaustive.  And we need to say "including, but not limited to" versus "including, without limitation," because the latter could be deemed to create an exhaustive list of one item, which item is limitless in scope.

Seriously, this is what three years at UT law school does to you.

At this point, Right Brain Me shouts, "Enough already.  Let's rent some fiberglass horses."

Friend Robyn and I really want a fiberglass horse for the upcoming Reading Rocks brunch, because we need a fiberglass horse in order to justify making him or her a saddle blanket out of children's book covers.

Friend Robyn plays well with Right Brain Me - and, also, with Left Brain Me.  It is occasionally suggested that we, in fact, share a brain.  I can't say with 100% certainty that this supposition is inaccurate.  But that's the subject of another post, titled "The Two-Headed Creature With One Brain."

And so it is that, among the many e-mails that I sent today, one of them contained the phrase, "We really aren't picky about the overall color scheme for the fiberglass horse, and if a horse is not available, we're good with a burro."

Words.  That.  I.  Have.  Never.  Before.  Linked.  In. Sequence.

I really do love my life.