I’ve dodged flues, coughs, and stomach bugs for months, but eventually everyone’s luck runs out.
While I usually manage life on seven-ish hours of sleep, today I woke up close to 2pm after an impressive 15–16-hour sleep-a-thon. Disoriented, my throat felt sandpapered, my cough like a retired miner’s, my head crushed in a vise and remodeled with a sledgehammer.
After trips around Europe, shopping sprees, Portobello Road wanderings, and West End adventures, I finally bundled up in blankets and feasted on soup and cough syrup.
Five days left in London… At least I’ll return to New York with immunity.
