Really the only bad purchase decision was the fourpack of Ballpark bun length, all beef hot dogs last summer. My failure to check the expiration date and calculate what the rate of consumption would need to be led to an informal, in-home hotdog festival of sorts, where the first option for lunch everyday for a few weeeks was "How 'bout a hotdog?"
But for parmesan, Saltines, baking soda, juice boxes, snack foods for Scout dens, granola bars, entire seasons of CSI: Miami on DVD (truly the best comedy show ever), and one new computer monitor, we have loved our Costco membership.
The last few weeks, though, my admiration for Costco has changed and become something new. I'll call it, "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, for still having plenty of gas, no gallon restrictions, and no ridiculously long lines." I find myself checking my gas gauge every time I come near Hanes Mall Boulevard and turning up that driveway if I'm a quarter tank or more down. And I don't necessarily go inside and shop anymore; "a Costco run" in our house has become synonymous with "a fill-up".
Two more weeks is what I've heard, two more weeks before fuel availability returns to normal. Two more weeks until I start thinking of Costco again in terms of giant bags of rice, stacks of Lilly Pulitzer toddler dresses, and hot food samples in little pill cups.