Brenda9's Journal

So, Dad comes to get me to take me shopping and whatnot.  When I left the house at 10:00am, the temperature outside was 38 degrees Celcius.  For you Americans, that's 100.4 degrees Farenheit.  It's supposed to get up to 42 today (107.6).  Okay, pausing in my story for a moment... I'm having deje vous... weird.  Anyway... where was I?  Oh yeah, it was HOT out.  Before we leave Dad asks me to run over where I have to go so he can decide in what order to do things.  So I tell him:  bank must be first, then (in whatever order) Safeway, Fabricland, jewellers, mailbox.  He decides on this order:  bank, jewellers, Fabricland, Safeway, Post Office.  I agree, and then flat out tell Dad that I have more than just a couple of things to pick up at Safeway, and there's no shade to park in there, and he and the dog are gonna freaking DIE in the van in this heat.  I say he should get out, and he and the dog sit on the bench outside the Safeway in the shade, but he poo-poos that idea and says he'll park where he can get a breeze blowing through the van windows.

Now, you all have someone in your life like this:  there's no way I'm going to argue with him, because he's a gruff, stubborn old fool.  (I say that lovingly.)  I look at the dog, and she looks like she's going to melt into a puddle already.  So, I steal myself for...... you guessed it....  SPEED SHOPPING.

That's right, I ran around that store, shoving old ladies out of the way and making little kids cry, throwing things in my hand basket, stealing out of other people's carts, and working up a sweat at speeds worthy of an Olympic Gold Medal.  People were jumping out of my way, and things were flying off the shelf at a phenomenal rate.  All for the safety and comfort of a stubborn old man and his dumb dog.  I hop in the van and Dad says, "That was fast."

You have no idea. 

Where's the podium?  I have to go and claim my medal.