Please play while reading…
It’s so hot that I went to Beckers and the Mr. Freeze became Mr. Damp in seconds. I also bought some Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups and they turned quickly into Reece’s Peanut Butter shooters. We were supposed to get some rain today, but the weather man told us the clouds went to the hospital for dehydration.
Many years ago I used to hang out at a grocery store that was across the street from where I lived on Bronson Ave in Ottawa. They not only had the best fresh feta cheese, but it was the coolest place to be when the temperature rose to hot and steamy. Usually there were no disagreements in their grocery store over the regular issues, but when the temperature rose, so did people’s personalities and their behaviour.
Photo by Linda Seccaspina- Brick Street Carleton Place-2013
Regulars would come in after work and buy steaks, baking potatoes, fresh bread and cheese. Or, there were some that would look at the fruit on sale and their heated minds would ask if there was more elsewhere, and my friend would dryly say,
“No, actually we keep all the good stuff all in the back” and roll her eyes.
The store fans would whir constantly as the regulars would drop in seeking relief from the outside temperatures. One man who came in every single day would suddenly refuse to buy anything with bar codes on it during heatwaves as he said the government would know where he was. A small timid bespectacled man who was a regular lotto player said he was playing extra numbers during the heatwave because Jesus told him he was going to win.
Sometimes I wondered why people did not wear extra deodorant on steamy days, and I wanted to tell the old Italian lady next door that the Chanel perfume she seemed to pour on herself did not come in the garlic scent she appeared to be wearing.
There was also the woman who constantly wore tube tops and daisy dukes and fancied herself a Marilyn Monroe look-alike. She said she kept cool by storing her underwear like Monroe did, in the freezer next to her frozen french-fries. Her waiting beau would always sit in his truck outside, which had a small fan whirring above his rear-view mirror, and I used to joke that his name was either Jim-Bob or Skeeter.
I hate heat, and heat hates me–and as Steven Wright once asked,
“If you saw a heat wave, would you wave back?