Well, it was inevitable. Even though I'm equipped with my bottle of Airborne, I am officially sick.
I don't know why but for some reason I picture European germs conspiring with French accents donned in striped mime clothing with curly mustaches. "We are going to make ziz gil, ow you say, SICK wiz er fist Danish cold. Quick Louis, get into er sroat and infect ze tonsils which are no longer der! It will be, ow you say, MAGNIFIQUE!"
Yeah...I don't know where I get this stuff....
Finding a box of tissues in Denmark has proven itself an impossible task. Sick sans Puffs. What SHALL I do!?
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