What I feared would happen, has happened. My wonderful Florence Nightingale performance with The Husband has left me with la grippe. But, France is in the middle of a flu epidemic after all, so maybe I was bound to get it.
So here I am, in bed, with a cup of tea (which of course I had to make myself... grumble grumble, growl growl, **insert other unhappy noises**), propped up on pillows with a head that feels like it's both floating and going to explode.
Can you tell I'm cranky?
On the bright side... Honey's Honey will be walking Fifty today. Yesterday I walked Fifty in my pyjamas (in France! Shock. Horror. Right?), because I only had the energy to either A. get dressed or B. walk the dog, not A + B, and since Fifty had to go pee pee, pyjama dog walking it was. I'm sure I'm the scandal of the village.
But that's nothing new really.
P.S. QUICK! What's your favorite TV show? I'm looking to ease my insufferable lonely and sick boredom.
P.P.S. As soon as I ditch the French germ factory that has taken up residence inside my body, I will be back to tell you all about Honey B's surprise party, and my trip to Aix last weekend. I'll miss you guys.