... or how Robert ruined Christmas. We have ferry tickets to Estonia for tomorrow, but it's yet unsure if we will be able to visit my parents and relatives for the holidays because - yes, Robert is sick.
When I fully realised it yesterday morning, I just sat and thought it must be my own personal holiday curse. Mammu fell ill in August, when our vacations began, and needed to be given medications three times a day, so that was all that we did during summer vacation. Now it's Christmas holidays and Robert is sick. It's so absurd I don't even know what to think.
I don't even know what's wrong with him other than that he just doesn't eat and doesn't play and is not his normal self. We took him to the vet yesterday (they should have some programme for regulars, really...), the initial examination didn't indicate what might be the problem, nor did the blood work.
I'm really tired of pets being sick, and wish this year was over already!
On more bookish notes, I finished A Christmas Carol this week, a lovely buddy read we had with Sam and Christine. I've also been reading The Quantum Thief for a while now - it is a mind-blowing book but unfortunately quite difficult to follow, especially if your mind is occupied with a lot of worrysome stuff. I also started The Road by Cormac McCarthy - a happy Christmas read this is not. I'm kind of craving for some nice classics book and have been thinking of North and South for more than once now, maybe I'll pick that up during the holidays.
That was my depressive Sunday post - forgive me for being gloomy during holidays. I hope Robert will start feeling better soon, that would be like, a little Christmas miracle and the biggest gift I could get.