Monday, April 23, 2012

Shopper in Training

Do you ever feel like your weekends just fly by, and before you know it you are staring down Monday feeling like somehow the weekend was there, and then gone before you actually got to see it?  That was my weekend.

Between Toyota telling us my car had another recall, and then there was the issue of an oil change and a chip in the windshield (how did that happen?), plus John's desire to dig his beloved motorcycle from storage, we had lots of reasons to take a ferry over to Vancouver.  I don't mind Saturdays in the city-I like them, really, but sometimes it feels like the whole day is sucked up with stuff you have to do and you don't actually get a rest at all.

Not exactly the lounging on the couch until noon in your pjs drinking coffee and writing kind of Saturday that I usually enjoy.  No, instead I was fighting the maze of downtown Vancouver streets trying to find, of all places, Costco.

Costco in downtown Vancouver is nestled right close to BC Place, along the one way Expo Boulevard.  I'm not sure who thought of that location, as if sports fans would need to stop by and purchase a can of tuna as big as one's head, possibly? Roads twist this way and that, none with any clear destination.

Oops! Dead end. Dammit.  Now there are some 20 somethings behind me, annoyed that I'm taking a millisecond longer to get moving once the light turns green.  Kevin learns that when I'm a bit lost and annoyed, I swear like a trucker.

"Kevin, look at the map. what road is next?"

"Um, where are we?" I glance over at my son and realize that there is no point in asking him.  A kid who is only used to technology and could pinpoint my location with Google GPS is woefully inadequate when it comes to reading a map.

It also doesn't help that he's holding it upside down.

Forget the map-let's go by instinct, now.  Amazingly enough, that works and we find the Costco, tucked away under overpasses and concrete.  We descend into the bowels of the parking garage, patiently waiting for people collecting carts to get out of our way, eventually finding a spot of our own, only to discover that we need to pay for parking.  We buy a membership and Kevin laments that he can't have his own card before we wander the aisles of industrial sized containers of peanut butter and rice.

I still can't shake the feeling that I'm like Pa from Little House on the Prairie, loading up at the general store.  Things like 4 liters of dishwasher soap and a 20 lb bag of sugar are loaded into the cart, then the car, and hauled all the way home.  We finally arrive at 7 pm and carry our provisions from the car into the kitchen.  I'm exhausted and ready for a light dinner, when I notice there's something on the floor.  

Sugar.

"Oh, crap."  Kevin's voice comes from the front entry way and it dawns on me what has just happened.  Twenty pound bags of sugar usually have a corner at the top that is a bit open.  If the bag is standing upright, it's not a problem.  Sugar, in a thick line from the front door to the kitchen, snaked through the house like gunpowder because Kevin, in his eagerness to help, carried the bag sideways.

I think this Costco thing is going to take a little practise.




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