Thursday, May 22, 2008

What Goes Around, Comes Around...

I am an official member of Costco.  I'm pretty sure that I won't truly reap the full benefits of this bulk-selling business until I've produced a few more off-spring, but I am muy excited, nonetheless.  To celebrate, on Monday I decided to make my first full-fledged visit, well-equipped with my packet of coupons I earned as a new member.  (Which of course means that I had full intentions of buying every non-perishable discounted item that I could fathom a use for.)  My excitement was heightened upon pulling into my parking stall in the lot, when I noticed a conveniently abandoned cart, right next to my car.  Hoping that this cart would not be a "drifter" (the kind that prefers circles to aisles) I noticed a most pleasant surprise! 
 The previous owner had somehow managed to drive away without fully unloading their cart.  Indeed, in their haste, one pristine yet abandoned watermelon was patiently waiting for its owner in the bottom of the cart.   (A bit more round, than the one pictured, however.)

Suddenly I find myself with two small clones of myself, one upon each shoulder.  The more angelic one declares, "Perhaps we should leave this cart, just in case the owner comes back in search of its beloved, yet briefly forgotten fruit." But my more devilish replica promptly interjects with, "who knows how long it's already been sitting in this hot sun!  It could be ruined in another couple of hours and we have no idea if the previous owners will even notice its absence!"  To this the angel retorts, "well then, let us take it back inside, and let it assume its properly cared for place in the shelter of the store."  So the devil snaps back with a reminder that "this watermelon has been paid for already, so we wouldn't be stealing.  Plus, since abandoned, it is clearly unappreciated by the purchaser.  Finders keepers".  

And with that, I plopped my new round friend in my trunk, and took the cart inside to bask in the beauty of bulk bliss.

The next day, my mother came down to help me paint a few spots in the new abode. (What is now the nursery was entirely too patriotic for my taste.  
If anyone would like some crafty flag decor, please let me know- I have more than my fair share.)  Since preggies are not supposed to inhale the fumes, mom requested I run to Home Depot to pick up a few things while she got started.  I of course obliged and set off for the place that always makes me feel like I want to become the handiest woman alive.  

I found all necessary items- a quart of semi-gloss for the molding, spackle, paint brush, another tray liner, a new light-switch plate... and all seemed to be going perfectly peachy.  In fact, there was no line at the self-checkout lane!  I scan all the bar codes and fill the bag, right when the prompter tells me to (I probably cannot count the number of times I've been accused of placing extra items in a bag, or been yelled at for removing a bag once filled, before paying for the whole transaction.) and finally, I scan the paint tray.  Oh no!  It won't fit in the bag with the other things!  But I have to put it on the sensor or it will get mad at me, and then I'll have to wait for a service representative (which will take forever since there isn't one nearby)...  And then it hits me.  I just need to place it on the sensor- no bag needed.  Genius!  I pay, get my receipt, grab my bag, and depart without further complications.

After returning home, I make lunch, and my mother approvingly examines my purchases.  Once she gets started on the accent wall in the nursery, I am requested to hand over the new paint-tray liner.  "It should be with the other stuff," I declare, "I know I bought one- 59 cents."  When my mother insists it didn't make it upstairs, then it hits me...  I left it on the sensor at the self-checkout!


I can only hope that I inadvertently paid back the one whose watermelon I stole, by replacing it with an urgently needed paint tray liner.

1 comment:

Ryan said...

Wow. You've become so poetic in your postings. Quite a new tone, I say.