Dear John,
I'm tired. We're all piled up in bed (except Abby, who is under it) - Jethro is asleep, Hunter grooming himself, and Maggie torturing a felt mouse. And I'm trying to stay awake.

Today was a bit slower. We had freezing rain this morning and the roads were dicey, so the drive-up wasn't as busy as on a usual Saturday. I came home, ate lunch, and involuntarily slept through the first quarter of the Notre Dame game. I should have slept through the fourth quarter, too. Their season started off so well and is ending so badly. I don't recommend watching the game. It was ugly.
This is one of those night that I really miss you. Maybe it's the rain, maybe that I'm hurting all over - between the rain and the overtime, I'm at the mercy of the fibro tonight. Or maybe it's just that I love you and wish you were here. As much as I love the animals, they're a poor substitute for you. If you can, reach down and hold my hand tonight.
Adore you,
Joan.
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