I was going to be writing part 3 of my Thanksgiving weekend adventure today — the part where my mother’s dog made our drive home MISERABLE — but I’m not feeling up to it.

Why?

I’m worried about my Lucy Belle.

(If you follow me on Twitter, you know I had to take her into the vet yesterday to stay the night because of stomach issues.)

She spent the night, and they want to keep her all day. They said she’s doing fine, but I miss her.

Last night was really lonely in usually too-tiny one-bedroom apartment. Granted, I got to sleep through the night without any problems, but I miss her snuggling up next to me on the bed. I miss her jumping on top of me to let me know she needs to head outside RIGHT NOW.

To top this off, my week has been a downer, and I’m sick.

Wednesday was an awful day to be a journalist. (Did y’all hear about the layoffs — the largest amount of them in newspaper history?) And while I still have my job, my heart goes out to my friends, colleagues and acquaintances who were laid off. It breaks my heart.

The whole sickness thing? It started going downhill on Tuesday when Lucy and I were driving back to our little town. Now? I sound like a 75-year-old smoker with a really fantastic hacking cough. And this morning, I realized I cannot hear out of my right ear. Cool?

/end whine

This weekend has to be better, right?