Sicko

Being Under the weather is one thing and being so underground that you can taste metal each time you breathe is quite another dimension of sickness, one that I currently explore.
Of all the marvellous teachings and preaches I sermonise they're exactly the ones that I forget to inculcate.
How often have I told people to not shock their bodies by entering extremely frigid temperatures after being in excessively hot ones? I forget the count but look what I did while I vacationed.
After venturing in extremely humid environs and sweating like a leaking bottle I often made a beeline to the nearest air conditioned mall and felt an immediate shiver because of all the sweat promptly cooling off but did I care?
Not a bit and I must have gone through that drill of sweating and shivering at least a dozen times, add to that the ever greediness of my soul and self to sample all the cold desserts, beverages and unique eats the city offered most of which was iced to the heavens or made of shaved ice and these I must have eaten remorselessly while shivering/sweating and all those anodyne moments collected into a repository of little sins that amassed to form something of a painful outcome resulting in a throat that feels like there's a full blown ballon lodged in the gullet and eyes that won't stop watering.

There is no fever whatsoever and for that I'm glad because that would have just made me want to sit atop a sacrificial pyre.