My mind goes in odd directions indeed. I was listening to a show about the legal implications for the Boston bombing perpetrator. One of the lawyers argued that he shouldn’t get the death penalty because it would make him a martyr. Instead he should live out his days in some obscure prison and be forgotten.
And what did this remind me of? Dumbledore. That’s right, Dumbledore. I thought of Grindelwald living alone for sixty years in a tower cell in Nurmengard. I thought of how Dumbledore always says there are things far worse than death. Then I finally connected that with what must have been going through his mind knowing that someone he once loved very deeply was alone and in prison. There must have been some spark of goodness in Grindelwald, and yet it seems no one ever tried to rehabilitate him. Grindelwald showed remorse at the end of his life, but he died completely alone. Dumbledore, being a very sensitive man, must surely have experienced some pain and conflicting emotions over this. What does this have to do with Boston? Essentially nothing. And yet, I pondered it for a good ten minutes on my drive home.
I also got 100% soaking wet on my way home. I walked in the door and got in the shower. This was perhaps the wrong move, as I could not stop yawning from that point on and basically wanted to go to bed at 6 pm. I made it until about 9:30 then could barely keep my eyes open to read ten pages of my book. I woke up at 5:30 for the third day in a row. It’s a disturbing pattern.
Here’s to an amazing weekend. Mine’s going to start with making cheesecake. Want some?