This is me. And has been for the last two days. Much to lovely boyfriend's disgust, I too have left a trail of snotty tissues round his house, have gone through two rolls of loo paper in a day from blowing my nose, have cleared out his medicine cupboard and polished off two cartons of orange juice (which, incidentally I couldn't even taste). I have also been winy and teary every time he leaves me on my own (I'd certainly want to get out of that germ pitt if it were me!), kept him up in the night from snivelling and coughing, and demanded he have no friends over because of my dire illness.
He is now sick. And I'm on the road to recovery. This is how it usually works with us. One gets sick, the other follows suit. Whatever medicine was left I forced down his throat last night.
So I'm back at work today. Still slightly dazed and dosed up, I almost left the house in my pyjamas, holding a mug of Med Lemon before I then realised I should perhaps change and have a shower. However, even after my concerted effort to look presentable (and I think I did a pretty good job) I still arrived at work to a horde of 'God, you look awful, are you alright?' 'Shame, you look terrible, you should go home'. Apparently the flick of mascara, clean hair and a brush of blush did absolutely nothing to lift my sickly, pallid appearance.
Guess the red nose was a total giveaway.
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