Healthy? I’m not.
I have a bad cold. Like, a really bad cold. A “this happens to me once a year, if even”-cold. *cough cough* The Scotsman made me soup and allowed me to stay in bed for three days straight, fed me paracetamol and orange juice. I even had a hot toddy or two. *sniffle*
I am wearing three(!) tops, leggings and knitted socks. It is freaking 20 °C outside and the Scotsman is standing on the patio with no shirt on, while I am curling up on the heated bathroom floor. Now I finally know why it is called having a cold. Kill me now.