Life on the inside of a Bikram yoga studio

I realised this last night, when I took out my camera to take a picture. The camera fogged up, was useless, and I scooted back inside. I have never spent so much time inside.

Because outside? Well, outside they TELL you it is 48C, but you know it's more like 54 or 55, because that's what people's car thermometres say and after all, I am not an idiot. I know a six-degree difference when I feel it. I went for a pedicure today. The bottom of my feet were falling off, and I apologised to the aesthetician for the sorry state they were in.

"It's normal ma'am," she said. "Because of the weather."

I was at the beach on the weekend, and I thought I might perish. I interviewed a girl there, a newbie from Scotland, and sweat was dripping off of her face. And mine. We were just standing there, sweating more than either of us had ever sweat before. Everyone who has been driving - in AC or without – has a telltale seatbelt-sized stain of sweat draped across them. And a sweaty back.

Yesterday, while crossing the street from the coffee shop to my hotel, a four minute walk, I felt like the heat had formed a box around me, one that was pressing in from all sides. Oh, and by the time I got into work, I noticed my nose had a slight burn. Today I took a cab back from the grocery store, and that's basically an eight-minute walk. And a friend at work, who fell asleep in the gulf for 30 minutes, came into the office looking as though he might need admittance to the burn ward.

But I'm not complaining! It's sunny every day! And on the positive side, my skin HAS never been so luminous.

I am fairly certain now it cannot get any hotter - or more humid - than this. Fairly.