117 degrees in the sun (and a husband without a truck)

Yesterday at about 5:30 pm we looked at the thermometer outside our bunkhouse window and it read 117.2 degrees. Granted it is in an intensely sunny spot and is always 5-10 degrees higher than other measures. But still.

I'd never seen anything like it.

And the temperature at the north end, the shady end, of the buildling read 106.

And the thermometers on banks in Emporia ranged between 105 and 109.

How is this possible?

The little air conditioner that came with my office house does not serve. So I went out to the big city yesterday to buy an air conditioner. At my fourth and final stop I found one big enough and still in stock. But it wouldn't fit in the Honda Civic.

"Can't you borrow a truck?," asked the warehouseman at Hills Appliances in Emporia. "Doesn't your husband have a truck?" Like, what kind of man would your husband be if he doesn't have a truck.

I hastened to explain that we had just moved here from Chicago and my husband simply had not acquired the requisit truck yet. But that, yes, I could borrow one and, yes, I would be back tomorrow with a truck.