Ben and I had been hearing about the miracle of Costco for a while and decided one wintry Saturday to check it out. They won't let you in the door unless you join, so, although uncertain, we filled out the form and proceeded into the cavernous warehouse. Momentarily we were dazzled by the possibilities. The big-ticket items are up front, and we don't really need a giant home theater but mega-snacks were close by, pretzels in BIG-ass tubs, twenty-four packs of fruit-roll ups, you name it. The prices work out quite well when you do the math. We put a few of these items in the cart and proceeded to the toothpaste aisle. Toothpaste comes out to a little over a dollar a tube if you buy the twelve-pack. We put this in the cart as well. We continued to add things to the cart for another few aisles until we began to get a little confused. It seemed like we were going to get to checkout and have a grand total of four hundred and ninety eight dollars and perhaps we would need not return to Costco again until the following winter, but where were we going to put everything? Finally we came to this blinding realization: we are not Costco people. We have nothing against Costco people in any way. Maybe we will become Costco people at a later date, when we have kids and dogs and need Huggies and Gravy Train and Cheerios in bulk. But for now everything about Costco is overwhelmingly large with options we can't make sense of, and we are just small people in need of the least amount of options possible. We want to be able to leave the store of our own free will. Overwhelmed, we ditched our cart and snuck out, headed for the relative safety of Trader Joe's.
PS. Great news! The good people of Wigs & Plus are reading this blog, I am sure, because the mustachioed Beatle wig head's mustache has been righted.