The joy of heat, part II

For some reason standing at the stove, seasoning chicken for a later salad, prompted me to think of the nearby calendar and another note I needed to add to it.

So now on the Thursday before Memorial Day – because I work a double shift on Friday and doubt many errands will get done – is the notation, “buy box fans.” This morning, as the furnace generated heat but couldn’t blow it around the house, we lamented having two or three box fans, all with broken blades or other dysfunctions that made them unhelpful. I knew the nearby Walgreens wasn’t stocking box fans recently, and doubted the hardware store would be of any help, either. Even if I wanted to schlep across town to Home Depot – which I didn’t – I likely wouldn’t have been successful. (I have grown smart enough that I would have telephoned first, though.)

In a shortly later flash of brilliance, it occurred to me the neighbors might have a working fan, and I sent a child to check it out. They replied as I sometimes would have: Sure we do, and you’re welcome to it, just as soon as we find it. Which is how my child came home empty-handed and my neighbor appeared 10 minutes later, lugging two fans and sympathy for our heatless situation.

A FOOTNOTE to earlier this week: I did get a battery from AutoZone, and they even put it in for me (yay!). The person at the counter offered without even asking, then she asked the guy at the other end to do it for her.

It got funny. He refused. Another woman offered to check out my car, said she could handle it and rolled the cart out to do so. She explained she really didn’t want to ask the guy to do it, because he had done four already that day, and it was the coldest day this week.

Before she agreed, though, the guy looked at the woman who professed helplessness and asked, “Why do I employ you?” She had no answer.

Understand, I would have done it if I had to. At the price I was paying, though, including $10 to get rid of the old one, I was happy for the offer. I had the same question, though: If you can’t change a battery, how did you get a job at an auto parts store?

She must have been interviewed by the same people who hire for the sporting goods department at a certain very large department store. My advice: Get your hunting licenses at Ace Hardware.

This post originally appeared on, the online home of the Midland (MI) Daily News. Republished with permission.

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