As the sliding glass door closed, I knew that something was wrong. But I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I hoped the feeling of the unknown would pass but for some reason, it only helped to raise my panic level a bit more.
The lights burned in a clean magnesium fire brightness, rows of orderliness behind steel grills in the ceiling. Their brilliance, though cool, caused a bead of sweat to appear on my brow, or was it because of something else? The doors slid behind me as I embarked on my mission.
I started walking up and down the rows, at times stopping to look or read, and other times to try to remember. Each row was unique, carefully arranged and categorized and labeled. There was definitely enough information there but perhaps it was too much. It verged on being overwhelming.
My stride, which had started as a slow amble, had changed to a quicker meter almost on its own. By the time I hit the middle row, I was walking briskly, glancing side to side as I went. By that time, my brow was wet with perspiration and wrinkled with frustration. I still had not found it. My memory had failed as well.
With a mad dash, I left the repeating rows right in the middle of the building, jumped in front of some people with bored looks on their faces, apologizing as I went, and headed to the monotonously sliding automatic glass door. As I stumbled up to it, it slid out of my way with barely an afterthought.
Once outside, the sun beat down on my already wet forehead. But instead of drying it up, it caused the rest of my body to get hot, resulting in even more drops on my brow. I wiped those away, part of me still perplexed and the other quite angry at my forgetfulness. More rows faced me this time and I tried to remember where my car was baking in the sun.
The asphalt was a bit squishy, and the black surface reflected heat up into the soles of my shoes. By the time I found my car, quietly roasting to a popping point, I was hot and quite angry with myself. I patted my pockets to find my keys, pulled them out, which, of course, I promptly dropped on the ground, scooped them up and unlocked the door.
Where was it? I frantically searched the glove compartment, the hand-rests, the dashboard and eventually found it. It had fallen between the seats. I picked it up and put it to use:
“Honey, what was it you wanted from the grocery store again?”
About this article: This post is part of an on-going series for the AT&T Lose the Laptop Challenge. This month’s challenge is all about SHOPPING. Remember to VOTE (for me, especially). You can vote every day and you have a chance at winning a $500 Amazon gift certificate plus an HTC Tilt 2 device.
Disclosure Text : I have a material connection because I received a gift or sample of a product for consideration in preparing to write this content. I was/am not expected to return this item or gift after my review period. More information can be found in my About page as well as here. More information about the “Lose the Laptop” program is available here.
HTD says: When you head out to the store to go shopping, don’t forget to bring your cell phone. It can truly make the experience a bit less stressful!
