Swiss Inferno

I'm not sure what I may have done to deserve it, but there is a good possibility that I may currently be stuck in the inner circle of Hell. Not just an inner circle of Hell, the inner circle of Hell. 

In case you are unfamiliar with the Inferno part of The Divine Comedy, it's where Dante describes in terms of concentric rings the hellish conditions designed to punish the sinful after death. The first circle, for people who sneak chocolates and let their phone calls go to voice mail, is really not so bad, just a quiet place with no candy. Later circles are much worse, full of off-key singing, mandatory mullets, Hungry, Hungry Hippos, and cable news. And possibly boiling lava.

The innermost circle appears to have been specially designed to separate me from the one thing in this world I have loved more than anything else (also, might I moodily add, one of the easiest thing to procure when living in Switzerland): cheese. I am still in the testing phases, but my body seems to have turned against me, against my love. Is this tragicomedy or simply poetic justice?

O bitter Truth! O tragic Fate! Wouldst Thou ignore my cries? I promise, should this affliction pass over me, to hold cheese less dear, to wear the t-shirt less, to eat my vegetables... I swear, I swear it upon my Cheese Bible.