Being Smelly

I feel smelly. I didn’t take into consideration the fact that I would be sweating on an hourly basis. Back in the UK, I rarely sweat. I only sweat when I run. Or when I go for an especially strenuous bike ride. Or when I do my aerobics in my tiny sitting room. On a day to day basis, whilst one is going about their day to day tasks, one does not sweat.

At least, not so profusely as one does in this hot humid country. I woke up this morning, cleaned all the floors and sat myself down to have an hour long phone call with an old chum. Well, as one does, I walked around the house whilst on the phone. I climbed over things and sat in places I would never normally sit on, where my mind not so occupied by the conversation I was taking part in.

I wasn’t even moving that fast. I was barely moving at all. My physical exertion was nil, and yet I was sweating like a pig! I had a lovely long shower just before I fell asleep last night, and now, not twelve hours later, I feel as though I haven’t had one for days.

I am glancing out my window now and all I can see is the dusky brown of dust coating every building, road, pavement. It sits on the cars like a complacent beast. Yet it is unmoving and sinister.

I dusted the furniture yesterday and today it is covered in a film of dust that tells of years of neglect.

I dusted them yesterday.

I smell like the man who hadn’t showered in forty years. My hair hangs in clumps, stuck together with sweat I didn’t even exert myself for. I used to take for granted that daily showers were a luxury, to freshen one up, to make one feel alive. 

Now, daily showers are a necessity.

 

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