One might liken me to a delicate flower – or a cactus. Depends on when you catch me.

Temperature (hot or cold), low-density noises and bad aesthetics wear on me like a pregnant teenager does a Baptist congregation. Listening to the whir of a car’s air conditioner grates on my nerves so much that shooting sprees spring to mind. When faced with cold wind or rain, I melt into inactivity like a Hersey Bar in baby’s hand. Despite my acute low tolerance in some areas, I have a remarkably high threshold for physical pain, long and intense workdays and sickness of any kind.

Today found me exercising both extremes of my sensory oddball-ness.

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