I've been thinking about this off and on since getting the call from the courthouse yesterday. The clerk for the judge who presided over the case I was on called me to let me know what the defendant's sentence ended up being. Fifteen to thirty for the first-degree charge, and 10-15 for the second-degree charges. That's a long time.... I had a part in that. It's all very eye-opening to me. Clearly, justice was served, but part of me prays that jail is rehabilitative for this guy--and not that it jades him even further. I think on some level he was an okay person, but he obviously had some big problems. Fifteen to thirty years.
I am sitting here wondering what my day should entail. I'm mentally and physically kind of burned out, as Billy has worked overtime every night this week. I am looking forward to getting away tomorrow, but I am not looking forward to leaving Billy behind on the only two days he has off work (although THAT'S yet to be determined).
Izzy is standing next to me, smelling unpleasant. We walked down to the barn yesterday, the whole while walking through clouds of skunk. It doesn't smell like she was skunked, really (I've smelled THAT, and this is a thousand times less unpleasant), but just that her fur is holding on to the scent we walked through. If she had been skunked last night I probably would've hurt myself. I was tired and that's the last thing I would've felt like doing (even if I
wasn't tired!)
Guess it's time to take the stinky puppies outside. Ciao!