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Despite the horribleness of reduced lung function during the HRRAAWWWWK HRAAAARGHH GRGHHHHKKAAARGHGMHGM glaggy-chest-phase of respiratory tract infections it's the feeling-the-cold thing I despise most, even with the bonus side-effect empathic value of being able to experience temperatures in the way that most other people usually seem to, such as yesterday when I was still cold and shivery whilst wearing two long-sleeved layers. An intersect of sorts of the two aspects of the condition was noted today when I observed that the amount of effort necessary to overcome the metabolic colditude and achieve near-normal thermal imperviousness (in whatever the outside temperature was this evening, in one more layer than I would usually wear including winter-level tights under my baggies) was also the amount of effort required to hit the point at which my lungs really started swearing, though I only noticed this due to a bit of taxi-chasing that I hadn't been planning on doing after one did some reportably stupid things at me and needed to have its number and registration verified. As being not in an ideal condition to be chasing them up hills is also not an ideal condition to be in to be able to escape them I'll try and avoid them tomorrow.