Costco-Time

Being low on gas means that it's time to go to Costco. I like going to Costco. You never know what you're going to find. The thing about the Costco location I go to now, though, is that it's always a madhouse. Always. Even at 7:30, it was still a circus to find a parking spot. And I'm always in the minority: about 30% of the people there were Indian; another 30%, Asian, 15% were single twentythirtysomethings, and the other 5% were old ladies.

Today, when I went, I thought to myself, "It must be summertime at Costco," because berries, swimsuits, fans, watermelon, papaya, tents, hammocks, and juice popsicles dominate the shelf/pallet space.

And it must be summertime because a large clamshell of grapes, a fan, some sunscreen, some potato chips, and (if they had been there) some mini frozen cream puffs would have ended up in my cart as well. Do I need 4 lbs of grapes with which to feed myself? No. Do I need 2 lbs of potato chips? No. But it's summertime at Costco, so I just couldn't help myself.

At least I managed to control myself enough to refrain from purchasing a tent or an inflatable kayak.