It's gonna be a scorcher.

OK, that's about the fourth time I've said that today and it's only about 9:30. Does that make me odd or does it just mean I am completely lacking in originality when it comes to discussing the weather? But it really is going to be a scorcher. It's supposed to hit 94 today, which will set a new record or something. I have now metamorphosed from Zebra Woman to Lizard Woman, the amazing skin-shedding wonder of the modern world. I managed to peel a good chunk of skin off my left arm yesterday. What started the whole thing off is that I noticed that my skin was all bubbled looking after I finished running. It looked like it was covered with blisters and I didn't know what the heck it was because the blisters weren't there before I ran. Then I realized that my sweat was trapped under the layer of dead skin. It was somewhat gross because when I got home I took a pair of tweezers and started peeling the skin off and then all the trapped sweat started oozing down my arm. Not that there was a huge amount because how much does your arm sweat anyway? But there was definitely a good amount of moisture trapped underneath. Actually, it's kind of a relief that my skin is starting to peel because my arms and legs have been itching like mad the last couple of days. It feels much better with the dead skin gone. I managed to get most of the skin off my left arm, but I asked my husband to help with my right arm because I am right-handed and not quite as dextrous working my right arm with my left hand. So I hand him the tweezers and he starts at it a little and then says, "No, I can't do this, it's not natural. I feel like I'm flaying you."

"Come on, " I said. "You've got to finish. The itching is killing me."

"No, no. It's grossing me out too much."

Men are such wussies. I need some freaking relief from the agony. What's a little skin-peeling when I pushed a baby out of my loins? He's not feeling anything. So I'm doing as best as I can by myself.

What is it about taking a satisfying dump that just makes you feel all happy? I just finished up my business in the bathroom and it was the kind that makes you groan in pleasure when it's all over. Normally, I wouldn't go number two in a public restroom, but here at work it's a one-toilet job and I've got some privacy. It took me a long to even be willing to sit on the toilet. Normally, I just hover, but there are only two other women on my floor and they don't look like they have lice or anything so I figure it's safe.