I don't know what the hell is going on with me. Maybe it's just a one time deal. Let's hope so.
For whatever reason, I was in a manic state when we went to Costco on Sunday. Normally, I just push the cart and mind my own business, trying to entertain our 2-year-old twins while my wife collects the bushels and crates of provisions that will get us through the next couple weeks, or Armageddon, whichever comes first.
But somehow, on Sunday, Costco had developed an otherworldy sheen. I swooned at the foot of the majestic towers of detergent, was rendered breathless by the acres of discount designer outerwear laid out on bed-high display tables, and was dazzled by shiny boxes of over-the-counter cold remedies. It was like I was at a consumerist rave, up to the gills with ecstasy.
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