Love is

Love is being comfortable enough for him to walk in your house and you greeting him in silky pj bottoms, a vest top with no bra and a face with absolutely no make up whatsoever. Unruly hair kept down because he prefers it that way.

Both of you are poorly. He drives 4 hours so you can be together (ok he was coming to see you anyway but could have stayed and rested where he was). He picks up soup supplies on the way, along with lemon, ginger and honey. 

You run him a hot bubble bath ready for when he arrives. Make sure the sofa is clear and comfy. You spend the evening comforting each other and the night cuddled up. The soup was much needed.

Love is being able to talk about anything and everything. Of nothing being out of bounds. Of one moment talking about something serious and the next having the most ridiculous conversations about Turkeys, chickens and chicks.

He walks in the door and in the 4 hours you are both together, before you go to bed, you just lay on the sofa talking, the tv doesn't go on.

Waking him up in the morning with a drink and some Anadin Extra to try and get his temperature down. 

Cuddling him for as long as you can until you can't fight the Mother Hen in you that wants to go downstairs and defrost some chicken to make chicken soup for you both later on and to leave him to get uninterrupted sleep.

Love is him accepting that you are a slob and that your house will always be "lived in".
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