The First Cold.

I think Autumn has struck me with her crinkly-leafed-finger. I woke this morning at 2am to the sound of Liz in full wail ("where's my duvet?") and as I stumbled blindly down the stairs to rescue her duvet I realised I was completely drenched in sweat. It was dripping off my nose and my non-existent cleavage resembled bonsai-sized rapids. And as I stumbled back upstairs my t-shirt got cold and my scalp tingled with chill and I fell back into my sweaty pit and then woke this morning with shivery limbs and a clonky throat.
And a few hours on, after a therapeutic trip to Sainsburys and Homebase, one coffee and a handful of grapes later, my limbs still feel shivery and my head has that under-water-what's real and what's not sort of fogginess.
Does the saying 'starve a fever, feed a cold' ring true? Thing is, I'm not all that hungry.
I wonder if I should wash my sheets? Or will I wake up in another pool of fast flowing sweat tonight? If that's the case I don't see any point in the laborious task.
I have taken my echinacea and my vitamin pills. I will take some more. I've got to get Liz to her gym class this afternoon. Drive or Walk? Its raining and I feel weak...
I shall see how I feel after lunch with Liz whether I stamp some more of my carbon footprint on the well stamped route to the YMCA where gym takes place.
To snottily be continued over the course of the week.