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I often say, ‘A moment of silence in honor of my deep and abiding love of Costco…’ which is, quite naturally, followed by a moment of silence. At least when I stage the presentation well.
The specific Costco goods which inspire me thus vary: it has been dried apples (which the Costco gods discontinued), Fage Greek yogurt (which the Costco gods also discontinued), there is always the TP by the gross, writing utensils by the buckets-full, dental floss, protein drinks, diapers, marble tracks, Dead Guy Ale, and the only predictably decent avocados one woman can find. Really my devotion is multi-faceted and even despite their phasing out of certain items of appeal, unwavering.
Once again, Costco pulls through for me.
As many of you know this week has been one helluva! I’ve moved and am living with friends–dear friends, but an unusual situation and one I didn’t expect to find myself in. Our company is near death, with the ex winding it down. Change in status, change in employment, trying to ramp up something entrepreneurial quickly and dynamically in the midst of this so as to spend as little time as possible not able to make my own hours–charting my own destiny. Oh, and moving, packing, painting, cleaning, unpacking, dealing with the consequences which my carbohydrate coping prescription (willing suspension of disbelief for that other post about having licked that one please) has affected upon my once-again-extant belly fat. Dammit.
Didn’t quite feel like slitting my wrists this week, but did consider that it would be easier to not wake up one day.
So I was feeling a little sorry for myself–not gonna lie–when I went into Costco in search of avocados and pine nuts. Moment of silence in honor of my deep and abiding love of Costco…
I was cruising the isles as is my wont, when I happened upon a demo of a massage pad which fits nicely over the top of any given seat. I sat on said given chair. I turned on the machine. I reposed there, staring out between the stacks of goods on the opposite shelf and processed worthily. At first I thought, “I should get up. I’ve probably been sitting here too long,” like the chair police had a bead on me and they would let society know.
Then I got outside myself. I began to view this scene metaphorically, a hobby of mine. Despite this shitty week in which I feel unemployed in Greenland (Princess Bride). I am in a store surrounded by people, and a massage chair presents itself. I said yes to that chair. I could have done the socially approved thing and not stayed there; but instead, I closed my eyes, and I took a nap. Right there smack dab in the middle of Costco, I sat in that chair and slept while it massaged me. I felt rebellious and symbolic, and I knew that I would be okay because even if the group of women speaking in a foreign tongue which passed me were talking about the strange woman in the chair, a place of rest had found me, and I recognized it and accepted that rest gratefully.
“He prepares a table for me in the presence of mine enemies,” recontextualized just a smidge… My cup runneth over.
(The corollary, of course: this proves that I am going to be one of THOSE old ladies!)