Hot Day for a Shopping Trip

Today it is hot *hot* hot.  When the sun passes by the east side of the house, I put fans in the windows.  Then I take my box fan, lean it on the legs of a kitchen chair, and point it to blow on me.  Next I place a smaller fan perpendicular to the box fan.  I have cross ventilation extraordinaire.

About 7 p.m. Keith heads to bed.  The evening sun is shining in our bedroom windows.  I close the drapes, but that doesn't help much.

I return to my work on the computer, but I start feeling guilty.  I'm not ready to give up my two fans, so I move the standing one that is blowing out the living room window into the bedroom.

"That's a wimpy fan," complains Keith.

"It's the best I can do until the sunshine passes by the window," I say.  Last night I hung the box fan in the bedroom window to blow in the night air.

Keith is reading the Sunday paper, and he sees a bunch of car stuff on sale.  Camping gear is marked down, too.  He can pick up a couple of camp chairs and sleeping bags for one-third the regular price.

"The next time you see a good deal on a box fan, I think we should buy another one," I suggest.

"Yeah, good idea.  Box fans aren't that expensive."

While I'm putting Keith's work shirts in the washer, he shouts from the bedroom, "Are you ready to go to Fred Meyer with me?"

"Yeah, sure," I say.  I need some wheat-free foods and other woman's stuff that I don't expect him to pick up for me.

Keith is watching a program on the History Channel so I know that I have a little more time.  After I finish loading the laundry, I jot down a few items to buy, fabric softener, paper towels, toilet paper, lettuce, ice cream, and popsicles.

When he heads toward the living room, I jump up and change my clothes.  I can't go downtown in a halter top and stretch pants that don't quite make it to my waist.

"Are you about ready?" Keith asks.

"About... I'm pulling on my jeans and putting on my shoes and socks," I say.

This shopping trip would be our first test of the new two-way radios Keith bought to keep track of me in the store.  Fred Meyer isn't that big, but it's too big when you are looking for someone.  As we drive to town, we hear conversations of people using the same radios at the Tanana Valley Fair.

As soon as we walk into Freddy's, Keith pushes a cart to the automotive department.  I browse the summer sales and stroll through the makeup aisles.  I remember I need shampoo and conditioner.  When I'm in the cleaning aisle, I decide to call Keith on the radio.

"Has somebody stole my guy?" I ask.

"Where are you?"

"Between the fabric softener and the paper towels," I say.

"I'm heading over to electronics," he says.

Keith is watching me from somewhere because he tells me to pick up crab legs just as I pass by the seafood counter, and then he says to look at bedspreads just as I pass by the linens department.

By the time we meet up, Keith has a cart full of camping gear, motor oil, a fifty-foot extension cord, and a two-ton floor jack.  My cart is full of household cleaners, paper products and food.

As Keith checks out and pays for our purchases, I dash over to electronics and photo to look at the digital cameras.  When he pages me on the radio, I can see him pushing two carts toward the exit.

"Look at those legs," I whistle into the radio.  "You look like a mother with twins."

Keith looks around, sees me coming up behind him, and smiles.

After we unload the carts into the trunk and settle into the car, I pull out an ice-cream bar for Keith and one for me.

"I would guess this shopping trip cost two hundred dollars," I say.

"Close.  It was $183," he says.

On our way home, we pass by the University of Alaska.  The time-and-temperature sign flashes 9:45 p.m. and 64 degrees.

"Earlier today, it said 82 degrees," Keith says.  The mention of the temperature reminds me.

"You know what we forgot to buy?" I say.

"What?"

"We bought all this stuff, and we forgot to buy a fan."