Snivvling and with flaky skin around my tissue-scraped nose, I agreed to visit Small Bum last night after I'd met a friend for a drink.
It was the worst napover I've ever had.
Not because he isn't amazing, because he is, you see. The thing is, his room is unwittingly festering with mosquitoes. Mosquitoes love me, they eat me any chance they get. So in an effort to stop this, I sprayed perfume all over myself. Worse. They started eating him too, and they don't usually do this. We got eaten alive. The whole night was spent covering my face and head with a pillow, but because it's so facking hot right now, I couldn't breathe and needed a snorkel, and I was coughing like a beeyutch on top of it.
We did not sleep a wink.
And I have made him sick.
So grumpy, mosquito-bitten and hacking, I left his boudoir to conquer a huge story I have on the cards today.
That's why it wasn't a good napover.
PS: We only had sex once.