The smell of fall is in the air. One can feel autumn gradually pushing a very tired summer out of position. 

Gardens are slowing down, schools have begun, school sports are resuming, backyard inflatable pools are being put away, and ... one’s thoughts turn to...

Going somewhere! Anywhere! Desperation!  

Tilly and Duke had been in Wichita the previous day, and Tilly told me about the different things they accomplished. Her trip reminded me of the movie “Calamity Jane” when Jane returned from Chicago and reported, “The Windy City is mighty purty ... they got floors up to seven stories, never seen any morning glories ... they got fountains there that shoot you”

Her going to Wichita planted a seed.

The next day, Fred and I decided on the spur of the moment to run to Wichita. We really didn’t feel like making the effort, but we did it anyway.

First, we drove to Towne East. Fred dropped me off at Von Maur. He had some other things to do. Fine with me.

I read that masks were required, and I noticed everyone was wearing them. I dug through my purse and grabbed my mask. Plastering it on my face, I entered. Walking by the cosmetic counter with make-up and perfume, I casually thought “What’s the sense? I can’t smell with this on my face, and who cares if I am made up? 

Oh, bad attitude. Shape up Annie. 

I perused some beautiful clothing items, then left the store, heading for Dillard’s. I had forgotten how large that store is. Up the escalator I went to the 2nd floor where I stepped off at the cosmetics section. Nope. Not this time either.

Clothes jammed on racks everywhere. This brand, that size, this theme, that price. I peered through my glasses, steaming up from the mask heat, and I thought, “Well, let’s get ‘er on.”

Now, my first problem while pawing through the clothes, and weaving in and out between the racks was, “How will I remember where I saw some article that I might want later?” I looked around to get my bearings straight.

Picture this: me, looking like an astronaut. Big glasses, mask covering my nose, mouth and chin. I feel disconnected when I wear a mask, anyway, perhaps because it does not permit breathing. I must decide whether to breathe, or shop. I am continually exposing my nose, just to get my breath. And as I said, the lack of oxygen does give me a dizzy-déjà vu sort of feeling of disconnection.

But I continue onward, the shopper in me pushing me onward.  

I find a beautiful, white shirt on a rack, and check the price. I’ll think about that. I continue my quest. Around and around I go. Down aisles, through the clothes, across the aisles, and eventually ending up who knows where.

Finally, I realize, my get-up-and-go has gone-up-and-went.

My mask is slid under my nose, and my feet hurt. I have lost the direction of the escalator. I don’t care any more if I buy that shirt or not. Empty-handed, I decide I am done. 

But, hey, it’s lunch time. No big deal. Remember. This is a get-away! Call Fred. Yes, I am done. Let’s go eat.   

Judi Tabler lives in Pawnee County and is a guest columnist for the Great Bend Tribune. She can be reached at juditabler@gmail.com or juditabler@awomansview.