Sunday Routine

How Merrick Garland, a Supreme Court nominee, spends his Sundays

“pls call me, pls ffs, im dying” (Image: Office of US Senator Ben Cardin)

Even though Merrick Garland can’t convince the Senate to call him for an interview, he is one of the most experienced, sensible and measured judges ever nominated to the Supreme Court. On Sundays, he and his wife read the paper and exercise, like everyone else. Before that, they take turns scrambling the eggs and doing the dishes, a week’s worth. “My wife wants them done every day. I want to always be staring at my phone. Saving them all for Sunday is not the best idea but it’s also not the worst,” Judge Garland, 63, said. “As soon as I’m at the Supreme Court, I’ll be the new swing Justice. I’m already used to imperfect compromise.”

NO SLEEP TIL SCOTUS My Sundays begin Saturday night because I don’t sleep anymore. I used to sleep in Sundays. But now I’m up late, waiting for a call from the Senate, that this will be the week they will interview me. I’ll listen to some audiobooks to quell my mind. Maybe I’ll listen to a left-leaning one about affirmative action, which is settled law, or maybe I’ll listen to a right leaning one about, say, the right to bear arms, which I’d never, ever undermine. Right now I’m listening to a very moderate book about a time there were nine Supreme Court Justices. Typically my phone is on Do Not Disturb, at oral arguments especially, but ever since the President nominated me to replace Justice Scalia, I keep my ringer on. If the Senate calls me, my wife won’t wake up because my headphones are plugged in.

PANDER SCRAMBLE I like a big, energy-rich breakfast. I started ordering eggs from this agribusiness Senator Grassley subsidizes with large grants of government money. I wrote him a postcard letting him know. We’ll make a big scramble, my wife and I. Maybe it’ll be a Democratic scramble and we’ll toss in some smoked salmon or maybe, rarely, it’ll be a Republican scramble. We’ll use red meat, but a centrist amount. My doctor says my blood pressure is high from all the stress over the Senate not calling me, so I should curb my bad fats consumption. I’ll take a bite of the sausage scramble, just for the mouth feel, and then toss the rest to my dogs. We have two beautiful German short hairs, and we adore them. After I feed the dogs, maybe Senator Grassley will call me, thanking me for supporting his great state of Iowa and then remembering he has yet to interview me.

DISTRACTIONS We had a rule with the kids, no distractions at the breakfast table. We’d have the Sunday morning programs on, and we’d just kind of watch, and discuss. We’d talk about current events. No phones, no Gameboys. But now, maybe I’ll keep my phone right on my chair, between my legs, so no one but me notices it. And I’ll keep glancing down and maybe the Chief Justice will call. My wife will wince but I’ll plead with my eyes, and then answer. We’ll talk about baseball probably, or laws we want to strike down, or even the weather, but not climate change because I’m careful not to use trigger words before my interview. When he says “Bye,” maybe he’ll add, “I love you,” and I’ll say, “You say I love you to your colleagues?” And then he’ll say, “Of course, we all love each other, and we love to work with each other. The Supreme Court is amazing. We can’t wait for you to join us.”

TEAR DOWN WALLS After breakfast I’ll do the dishes. There’s a big pile of them because during the week I’m too distracted for chores. We have this window in our kitchen, and I’ve transformed it into a shrine to moderation. There’s a piece of the Berlin Wall to remind me of a time in recent history that was terrible and then suddenly not. There’s also a funeral card with the Prayer of Saint Francis printed on the back. (I’m Jewish.) I can lean my phone up on the chunk of the Wall so that I can read my messages as they arrive. Maybe Justice Ginsburg will text me that she is tired of writing perfect dissents that only bored lawyers read/share on Facebook. She is tired of being a meme. Maybe I’ll respond, “Hey Justice Ginsburg! I’ll be there soon and I’ll sometimes join the majority with you, and we can start making the law.” And maybe she’ll say, “You’re such a good boy and I’m rooting for you.”

COFFEE SHOP CATTINESS After the dishes are done, I’ll go get the paper. We stopped Sunday delivery a couple years ago because who can get through all those pages? I do most of my reading on my phone, which I never let go of. But if I pick up the paper, maybe I’ll run into Justice Kennedy at the coffee shop, and maybe he’ll say, unsolicited, “The center of the Court is so fun. It’s the world’s most important job.” Maybe he’ll get kind of braggy, almost defensive, like, “Don’t you dare become the new center, the new swing vote,” and maybe I’ll be like, “It’s my turn now, Justice Kennedy,” and then maybe other people in the coffee shop, even the barista, the one who waits a beat too long after asking how you’ve been doing, maybe he will grimace. Maybe he’ll say, “Justice Kennedy, that’s enough mouthing off. We want Merrick Garland as our new center,” and maybe the kids on their laptops will start slow clapping and chanting, “Mer-rick, Mer-rick, Mer-rick!”

BRIDGE TO WHERE Then maybe Justice Kagan will call me and invite me to her bridge game with Senator Lindsay Graham, and maybe I’ll go play bridge with them, and maybe I’ll need a partner and it’ll be Senator McConnell and we’ll talk about how they’re going to interview me this week, because did you watch any of the birther thing, or see the Skittles tweet, there’s no way Trump is going to be President, and you’re the best we’re going to get, probabilistically speaking. Maybe we’ll talk about game theory, and since we’ll be playing an actual game, maybe Senator Graham will demonstrate with the playing cards how it’s in their interest to confirm me, and soon.

CYCLING My wife and I started exercising together when we read somewhere that you’re more likely to work out if you do so with a partner. We’ll lift weights or attend the Pilates classes the Y offers. We love SoulCycle. Maybe we’ll run into Michelle Obama and her daughters at the cycling studio. Maybe I’ll say to her, “Oh hey, Madame First Lady, I haven’t heard from your husband since he nominated me.” And maybe she’ll say, “omg Merrick, I am texting him right now to call you.” I’ll situate my phone on the handle bars, so it will light up if the President calls. Maybe the instructor will say to me, please put your phone away, and I’ll say, I’m expecting a call. Then just as she gets out of her saddle, to confiscate my phone, it will ring, and maybe it’ll be the President. He’ll say, Merrick, look, I haven’t forgotten about you. You’re a once-in-a-generation, middle-of-the-road jurist, and I’m willing to dismantle Obamacare if that’s what it’ll take to get you through. And I’ll say, are you kidding, Mr. President, which I’ll emphasize, so the instructor knows I’m talking to the President, and he’ll say, of course. But Hillary will win, and she promised me she’d keep your nomination.

PARANOIA After I’m kicked out of SoulCycle, I wait for my wife on a park bench. I’m religious but not spiritual, I like to say, so I don’t get a ton out of SoulCycle anyhow. Instead I enjoy scrolling through my phone in the autumn sunshine. Maybe I’ll check my Google alerts. I set them up when I was appointed, and when I have a moment to myself, I’ll verify the spellings, just to be sure Google is netting accurate information. Did I spell Mitch McConnell incorrectly and that’s why I haven’t read anything this week about how he’s changed his mind about me? I just played bridge with him though? Wouldn’t he have said something there? Should I create an alert for Hillary’s assistant, Huma? What if she said something about the sorts of judges Hillary admires?

TAKE OUT We’ll order some take out when we get home. We like this Malaysian place that’s tucked behind a tanning salon. Our daughters love ethnic food about as much as they love Justice Ginsburg memes and before they moved out, they left a list of all the places we like, and the phone numbers, and we hang it on the fridge. Burmese. Dutch. Dominican. But just as often it’s pizza or Chinese. Comfort food. Maybe when I phone in my order, Donald Trump will beep in, and terrified, I’ll take his call. Maybe he’ll say, “Hi Merrick, I won’t call you Judge because soon I’m eliminating the job,” and then I’ll grunt nervously, and then maybe he’ll say, “I’m tearing down the Supreme Court, and I’m building a golden playpen for my son Barron,” and I’ll say, “Isn’t he, like, ten years old?” And he won’t hear me or he won’t know, because he’s already saying, “You’re out of work. Are you handy?” Before I say “No,” because I’m not handy, maybe I’ll throw my phone against the wall, and maybe it’ll break. I haven’t ordered our food yet, but I can relax, which is good, because I need to wind down. Like everyone, I prefer a restful, uninterrupted sleep before the work week begins.