I'm peely. The terrible sunburn I got at Christian's track meet ten days ago has borne glorious, dehydrated, parchment-like fruit. I have spent the last hour scraping up the rough edges of unpeeled skin with my fingernail and then stripping off big sheets that look white until you ball them up, and then you can see the concentrated cell death in a lovely shade of beige.
I am, however, being very courteous and putting the peelings on a napkin to dispose of hygenically in the trash. I don't want our sweet little custodian to have to vacuum up the remnants of my poor judgment.