My Dearly Beloved hates malls. You and I have discussed this before. His mall trauma has, until recently, paled in comparison to his Big Box store phobia. I’ve always gone alone to those because it wasn’t worth the effort of having to call Security to strap him onto a dolly for me to get him inside. It leaves so little room for purchases.
Costco is his worst nightmare.
We aren’t bulk buyers since it’s just the two of us. I joined Costco mainly for the pharmacy. My prescription not covered by insurance is about 40% less there. One trip paid the membership. (I recently read on Facebook that they make most of their profits on membership fees and break even on most of the merchandise. Must be true with such a stellar source, right?)
But I digress. Tuesday, it was time for another Costco pharmacy run. DB came willingly, along with my assurance that I had no long list. (He agrees that I shouldn’t need to depend on the kindness of strangers when I struggle with heavy items, so he has gone with me several times now. He’s even dropped the whimpers and martyr face. His sighs are much softer.)
Once in the store though, he assumes Old Fart Costco Cart Shuffle position: stooped over the cart, elbows leaning on the cart handle. Thinking that he might enjoy looking at gardening supplies, I suggested that he head there while I dropped off my prescription for the (gulp!) coming colonoscopy prep.
Silly me. He wasn’t even browsing. He’d parked on the right side of the main aisle, phone in hand, looking like he was calling Roadside Assistance. I longed for a broomstick prod.
We cruised the wine aisles and he showed enough interest to select a few bottles. Although he’d told me that we didn’t need birdseed, when he saw the price, he stuck a bag under the cart. Now see, THAT’S why I needed him. Had I tried that, I would have gotten stuck in bent-over position and needed EMT assistance. I hate for that to happen when I have frozen items in the cart.
Let me pause here to say that I bought box of authentic Moravian Meyer Lemon Cookies. . . delightful!!! DB chose the coffees and his own snacks, but gasped when he saw the price of toilet tissue. He suggested that we put some of our food items back so that we’d have need of fewer rolls. Always a thinker, that man.
He was thrilled when we checked out for less than $200 and thought we should lunch there to celebrate. Call me a snob, but I have never had a yen to try the Costco food court; I did a bit of whimpering myself. Nevertheless, I agreed. He went to find a table and I got in line to buy him a hotdog.
My order was a hot dog, two drinks, and some kind of barbecued beef sandwich for me. When I took it to our table, DB asked how much the spread had cost.
He was ecstatic! He loaded his hot dog with their relish, onions, and mustard and wolfed it down. . . with relish of his own. For the next 24 hours, he kept telling me how good it had been and no, he assured me, he was not still tasting it.
Today I need to go to Lowe’s to buy soil conditioner. My man is going to help me load the heavy bags in the station wagon. He’s offered to buy lunch afterwards at his new favorite, intimate cafe:
La Petit Costco.
(OOPS: My friend Beanie, who taught French, says that it should be Le Petit Costco or La Petite Costco, so pardon my French. As North Carolina is already deep into transgender hysteria, I wish to offend no one. Choose whichever you’re comfortable with. . . and let everyone else do the same.)