Let’s have some perspective, shall we? You just sentenced a guy to 34-years-to-life and stayed another sentence of 31-years-to-life on his other count. This guy is 39. You, at the end of the day, know you’re gonna grab your purse and go home. You’re gonna finally vacuum your two-story house which you’re able to romp around naked in since you have no roommate, you’re gonna sort your laundry and get a load started, and you’re gonna do an hour of yoga to unwind while laundry’s going. Then you’re gonna have some of your mother’s homemade chicken soup that she gave you this past weekend. Then Dodo is going to tell you he loves you and talk to you while “Friends” or any of the many DVDs you’ve purchased that are still in their wrapper plays on your big screen TV. After that, why not have a bubble bath? Hey, that reminds me, that’s what your 3rd Dove wrapper said yesterday. That it’s a good day to have a bubble bath. It is a privilege to have your house go to hell while you mope over your pittily emotional problems. It is a privilege that there are no children to feed, diapers to change, third jobs to go to in order to make rent on a dingy apartment. There is nothing wrong with your life. Nothing.