You won't believe it.
Three months I survived working in London.
And on the morning of my departure, on day one of what feels like a seriously well-deserved vacation, what do I wake up with?
I've got the swine...
Which means this post is now being written from my bed back in Paris, where I sit in semi-delirium completely incapable of sleep despite an early morning departure for the south of France tomorrow.
I don't think I've ever been so dehydrated in my life. Or more inclined to rail against "the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune." You bet it's outrageous. It's a downright disgrace.
But I'm under strict instructions not to write any depressing blog posts and to "keep it light." I also need to prevent the parentals from panicking and calling in the CDC.
So, dehydration, burning throat and unbelievably sore... everything... be damned, I will take it on the chin and keep smiling as my nose turns progressively more snout-like and my skin takes on a pinkish hue.