Our romantic first night in France

First of all : happy New Year to everybody ! Ours had a splendid start!
Right after the loads of food I had carefully prepared, P got sick. Really sick. He spent the next 24 hours between the couch and the bathroom. Meanwhile, I tried to get ready for my big move, finally packing the clothes ( !), and most of all, trying to cope emotionally with saying goodbye to everything and everybody while P lay knock-out with a 39°C fever.

On to the third of January, the day on which we were finally leaving for France. P was still feeling a bit weak, so we decided I would drive. We packed the car while a small hail storm was raging over Brussels, had our last lunch in the Irish pub, and off we went !
(stopping at like half of the motels between the French border and Paris, but I wont go into details, as this embarrasses P)
Standing in a huge traffic jam on the ring way around Paris, I knew the virus had caught me too. P had to take over the wheel, while I tried to survive the remaining kilometers on mints, coke, and an open window (while it was freezing outside).

After this horrible ride of more than five hours, the only one who had survived this ordeal was Phoebe the hamster. We unpacked the car (looking back on it, I truly don’t know how we managed), and what followed is a night to remember (or to forget as quickly as possible). Here we were, on our first night in France, the first night of our lives as a « living-together-couple », and basically all P did was drag me to the couch each time I fainted, hold buckets in front of me, clean up the floor, and retreat to the bathroom himself from time to time.

I spent my entire first day in France in bed, while all the suitcases remained unpacked.
Today, I finally managed to drink a cup of tea and eat two toasts with honey. There’s still « inside » while writing this – what a victory !
The apartment looks like a war zone, with bags and boxes all over the place, the couch transformed into my bed, etc. – but when I try to start unpacking, I feel like I’ve ran a marathon after only five minutes on my feet.
On the positive side : I already lost all of my « Holiday-pounds » (and more), and things can only get better after this, right ?