The grass started turning green a month ago, but the trees have remained leafless – until this week. Sometime overnight all the trees decided to blossom.

It’s as if the mayor pressed some secret spring button.1

I feel like I’m in some [...]]]> I think that thing they call spring is here.

The grass started turning green a month ago, but the trees have remained leafless – until this week. Sometime overnight all the trees decided to blossom.

It’s as if the mayor pressed some secret spring button.¹

I feel like I’m in some parallel Paula Dean Garden universe. I got so used to winter that I forgot that there are other seasons…

Harley and I spent the week exploring the extensive park system in the neighborhood. The amount of parks, lakes, and nature trails surrounding downtown is ridiculous.

I suspect I moved back to Germany and no one has told me yet, especially when I look at the Fachwerk houses in the neighborhood:

I need to stop bringing coffee on these walks. The same thing happens every time: I start the walk with a cup of coffee and when we are 4 or 5 miles from home I realize “oh shit, I need to pee.”

This is of course the point when Harley gets tired and is all, “wait, why are we rushing all of the sudden?”

He then decides that every tree, squirrel, and gardener is worth inspection.

My bladder starts crying…and disaster strikes.²

And don’t be fooled by the “Minnesota Nice” stereotype – even Minnesotans will give you filthy looks when you’re raging down the street, screaming “GOD DAMN DA COFF-FAAAY!!!” while grabbing your crotch and dragging a 100lb dog…

There have been plenty of times this week when I’ve wanted to scream upon getting home. Harley has started trashing the apartment.

I tweeted about the destruction and was directed by @Karpul to this article on the Humane Society Website. The topic? Dog Separation Anxiety. The gist? He’s destroying the apartment because he misses me and loves me.

Now before you say “awe” remember I am not seeing love when I’m cleaning up shredded novels marinating in puddles of piss.

No. That ain’t love.

And of course the article says scolding the dog will ONLY MAKE IT WORSE!

Well… crap!

You mean I come home to a destroyed, pee-soaked apartment and I can’t bitch at anyone? This is supremely unfair.

And the most ridiculous thing is that Harley didn’t start this chaos until recently. I guess that means he didn’t like me enough before…

In order to help him adjust, I decided to study at Dunn Brothers today. I left Harley a pork bone and hoped for the best. Of course he completely demolished the kitchen – broke dishes, dragged the trash everywhere, and then pissed all over the front door.

And no, he did not need to pee – we had gone on a two hour walk this morning. Minneapolis is perfumed with this dog’s pee. It was pure spite…or according to the humane society, yellow love…

One redeeming thing about Harley is his “don’t mess with me or I’ll eat you” size. He even keeps Meth Molly away.

However, Harley’s size did fail to keep the crazy away this week – we were walking in Uptown (on Lyndale) when I saw this sketchtastic guy sitting at a bus stop across the street.

He was bald, pasty-white, emaciated, and had no eye brows ala Alexander Litvinenko (or Powder) and of course STARING RIGHT AT ME.

So I smiled politely and directed Harley down the street. Of course a few blocks later I see that powder had crossed the street and was storming down the sidewalk right behind us! I have seen waaay too many zombie movies for this to be okay. Seriously, this guy looked like the last day of chemo…or day 28…

So I took a sharp turn and literally RAN down the block as much as I could before he made it to the corner. What the hay…

The sprint worked, but I ran into the creep at another bus stop on Hennepin. He glared at me from across the street. I wondered if Harley would catch whatever that guy had if Harley decided to eat him…

In addition to running from zombies and cleaning up pee, I took my first final exam this week. The subject was Property, and it was not as horrible as everyone expected. My only grief is that there were NO future interests/estates problems! Not a single one!

All that time spent on learning the vesting categories? A waste.

The $20 I spent on the supplemental future interest book? An utter waste…especially since I barely looked at the book…

Tomorrow is my Criminal Law Final, and Friday is Corporations. Crimlaw is strangely pleasant to study…which is odd given how incredibly dull that class was…

I’ve also spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about “what kind of law I want to practice” and decided that it’s a silly question. I am not so limited in my interests that I wouldn’t be perfectly content practicing in most fields. I know that seems sacrilegious to say, but I don’t think I’m the only person who likes law enough to be happy in most fields…

Heck, I think most students at my school would be open to most areas of law. And most of us feel silly when lawyers (and parents, and friends) ask us what field we want to practice in, since the first year of law school gives us no clue of what private practice is actually like.³

There are a few former Business School kids and future public defenders who know exactly what they want to do (to the exclusion of all other opportunities) but most of us have no idea…

The real question is what type of firm will hire me? I love my school, but I’m aware of its limitations. UMN is reputable enough that nearly everyone will pass the bar, but not so prestigious that everyone will have a job upon graduation.

I have decided that the answer is not to claw my way into the top 5% since even biglaw has its problems.

The point (for me at least) isn’t to get a prestigious job just because that’s what everyone else is doing. My goal is to have a career that allows me to do challenging work and pay off my student loans before I’m 40.

…oh, and a job that allows me to afford dog training…since I’m sick of this yellow love business.

I say “alleged” pee puddle because it has been there for two [...]]]> My apartment building is buzzing about the angry notes taped on all of the building’s exits. Apparently someone’s dog (not mine!) peed in front of our building. And yes, the alleged pee puddle has a note taped to it as well:

I say “alleged” pee puddle because it has been there for two days now without drying. I think someone poured out some hooch or something…

One of my neighbors is definitely scared of Harley – I’m leaving my apartment to take Harley on a walk and I hear a gasp from the end of the hallway:

Neighbor-lady: “He chained? I aint walking by no big dog…”
Me: “Yes. He’s leashed. He’s really friendly too…”
Neighbor-lady: “He looks like he RIPS PEOPLE’S HEADS OFF!”
Me: “Uh… well, my head is still here!”

Later on we had a visit by a maintenance man. I held Harley’s collar and let him into the apartment.

Maintenance man: “Oh, don’t worry. I have three Anatolian mastiffs at home. They weigh twice his size. Heyah!”

I’m surprised by how many people own mastiffs, but I guess there’s not an occasion for people to mention that to a non-mastiff owner.

Harley and I passed the neighborhood elementary school on a walk this morning and a third grader insisted that Harley was a Bull-mastiff because “his cousin’s dog looks just like that.” The runt is a total 0L and he doesn’t even know it! As we walked away he screamed “AND HE LOOKS JUST LIKE YOU TOO!”

Well…gee…watch it kid. Don’t think I won’t give Michael Jackson the address of the playground…

…I was under the delusion that today would be more productive than it was. I spent the morning “running errands.”

I had to get two important things:

1. A coffee table, since I was sick of outlining on the couch and leaning positions aren’t exactly comfortable right now…and…
2. Some bitter-dog spray. Harley has developed a fondness for the string tips of my window blinds and my UMiami beach towel. The bitter-spray is the equivalent of dog mace. I smeared it on everything that shouldn’t be digested.

The spray should work because it tastes god-awful. How do I know? Well, I bought a covered push-to-open trash can so Harley-Scalia wouldn’t pilfer the garbage during the day. I sprayed some of the bitter-spray on the can and of course I FORGOT about the spray. I touched the mace-covered “open” button for the trash can…and…A few minutes later I rubbed my mouth and began five minutes of…um… French.¹

Hopefully it’s awful enough to stop a mastiff…

Harley-Scalia has also discovered how to open the toilet. If I don’t close the bathroom door then he’s guaranteed to drink out of the tiolet.

Harley thinks I don’t know about this. I was in my bedroom when I heard these HUGE gulps coming from the bathroom.

Harley heard me get up and scurried into the kitchen. He was sitting next to his dog bowl, looking at me like “What? I was SO here the whole time!”

Yeah. Huh-huh. Right.

I only got through one outline today, which was underwhelming. I had such grand plans to get two outlines done and maybe attempt to move some more stuff over…but no. Fail. One outline was all that I finished. I went to fetch more soda and found Harley inspecting my books:

I have a property practice exam at 9am tomorrow, and a Criminal Law review session shortly after that. Staying away from school until my finals? Hah. Nonsense.

More bitchy neighbor notes after the jump:

Professor P: “If you missed class on any of those days where I passed out a handout, don’t worry. I always collect the extras and give them to my secretary. You may pick up extra handouts with her.” (Professor P answers a question [...]]]> Professor P is charitable. Other professors would have screamed “PAY ATTENTION FOOL!”

Professor P: “If you missed class on any of those days where I passed out a handout, don’t worry. I always collect the extras and give them to my secretary. You may pick up extra handouts with her.”
(Professor P answers a question from another student, then Jill raises her hand.)
Jill: “Do you have an extra handout for future interests?”

The entire class starts laughing. Jack, who sits next to Jill, is laughing so hard that he has to turn away.

Professor P (to Jill): “Uh…extra handouts are with my secretary.”
(Professor P looks at Jack, who is still laughing.)
Professor P (to Jack): “Oh believe me, I know what you’re thinking.”

Jack: “What makes a good exam answer? Like what are you looking for?” Professor P: “Well, one of the questions is going to ask for a piece of you. You have to be original and creative…” Jill: “A piece of me? Can I just attach a hair or something?” Professor [...]]]> Professor P describes the exam:

Jack: “What makes a good exam answer? Like what are you looking for?”
Professor P: “Well, one of the questions is going to ask for a piece of you. You have to be original and creative…”
Jill: “A piece of me? Can I just attach a hair or something?”
Professor P: “Uh, I was thinking of an intellectual piece.”

Professor P: “Jack. Lets assume that I want to sell a house, and you are my broker. And lets also assume, for the purposes of this hypo, that the house I’m selling is haunted.” Jack: “Uh…well, since that’s not possible…” Professor P: “Let’s assume that it is [...]]]> Professor P gave us the strangest hypo today:

Professor P: “Jack. Lets assume that I want to sell a house, and you are my broker. And lets also assume, for the purposes of this hypo, that the house I’m selling is haunted.”
Jack: “Uh…well, since that’s not possible…”
Professor P: “Let’s assume that it is possible.”
Jack: “Okay. Well, it’s not necessarily physical defect. Ghosts aren’t damage to the property…”
Professor P: “But the moans are coming from the walls!”

Then it was Jill’s turn.

Professor P: “Now Jill, you are a consumer protection advocate. What do you say?”
Jill: “Haunting is a material fact!”
Professor P: “Is it?”
Jill: “Uh, I suppose so.”
Professor P: “Let’s suppose that the walls don’t moan that often, or that they only moan at midnight.”

Professor P: “The Fair Housing Act1 prevents discrimination based certain protected classes, including sex.” Jack: “What about the YMCA that rents only to men?” (Class engages in a collective ‘what the hell?’ moment.) Professor P: “YMCAs still rent to people?” Jack: “Yeah. I think so.” Professor P: “Uh…well…” Jill (frantically waves [...]]]> Property just got amazing:

Professor P: “The Fair Housing Act¹ prevents discrimination based certain protected classes, including sex.”
Jack: “What about the YMCA that rents only to men?”
(Class engages in a collective ‘what the hell?’ moment.)
Professor P: “YMCAs still rent to people?”
Jack: “Yeah. I think so.”
Professor P: “Uh…well…”
Jill (frantically waves her hand): “WAIT! I just stayed at a YMCA, and I AM NOT A MAN!”

Mr. and Mrs. Riddle purchased a parcel of real estate, taking title as joint tenants. Several months before her death, Mrs. Riddle retained an attorney to plan her estate. After reviewing pertinent documents, he advised her [...]]]> Riddle v. Harmon¹ made my day. The case is about a woman who tried to disinherit her husband…

Mr. and Mrs. Riddle purchased a parcel of real estate, taking title as joint tenants. Several months before her death, Mrs. Riddle retained an attorney to plan her estate. After reviewing pertinent documents, he advised her that the property was held in joint tenancy and that, upon her death, the property would pass to her husband.

Distressed upon learning this, she requested that the joint tenancy be terminated so that she could dispose of her interest by will. [...] Mrs. Riddle died 20 days later.

The husband objected to being disenfranchised. The court said tough:

That “two-to-transfer” notion stems from the English common law feoffment ceremony with livery of seisin. If the ceremony took place upon the land being conveyed, the grantor (feoffor) would hand a symbol of the land, such as a lump of earth or a twig, to the grantee (feoffee).

In order to complete the investiture of seisin it was necessary that the feoffor completely relinquish possession of the land to the feoffee.

It is apparent from the requirement of livery of seisin that one could not enfeoff oneself-that is, one could not be both grantor and grantee in a single transaction. Handing oneself a dirt clod is ungainly. Just as livery of seisin has become obsolete, so should ancient vestiges of that ceremony give way to modern conveyancing realities.

Professor P: “This is a classic example of a badly drafted document. When you use a form, make sure you are the master of the form. Do not use words that you don’t understand.”

Professor P: “So what did the lawyer do in this [...]]]> Professor P didn’t think highly of the lawyers in today’s case.¹

Professor P: “This is a classic example of a badly drafted document. When you use a form, make sure you are the master of the form. Do not use words that you don’t understand.”

Professor P: “So what did the lawyer do in this case?”
Jill: “Well, he didn’t know how to draft the will so he called up a lawyer buddy of his, and that’s where the ambiguous language came from…”
Professor P: “Thereby proving that two bad lawyers are not better than one bad lawyer!”

The specific clause in the contract is “as tenants in common with the right of survivorship.” The problem is that tenants in common have no right of survivorship.

Professor P: “And the rule against perpetuities doesn’t care if the child’s interest ends by a child getting the property, or if the interest ends with the child getting hit by a bus and not getting the property. Either way the rule is happy.”

Professor P: “This is an area of the law where magic words matter.”

Jill: “So the holding of this case1 is that the words “as long as” are more magic than the word “purpose?”

Professor P: “Yes! Exactly!”

Then, a few minutes later the magic theme [...]]]> The Future Interests discussion in Property just got weird…

Professor P: “This is an area of the law where magic words matter.”

Jill: “So the holding of this case¹ is that the words “as long as” are more magic than the word “purpose?”

Professor P: “Yes! Exactly!”

Then, a few minutes later the magic theme allowed to Jack to give us a vocab lesson:

Jack: “So those words are less talismanic² than the other words?”