I wasn't going to stop at Costco at all.
I was going to the temple, and then I was going home.
But my two oldest sons need shorts; last summer one of them wore the same pair every day for seven months.
And March 'tis the season for spring wear at Costco.
So I stopped. Found a great deal on six pair of cargo shorts, and then remembered I needed some rice milk for one of the milk-sensitive families I care for.
Decided I might as well venture deeper into the store–since I was there anyway…that and my hands were shaking and I was seeing double because I hadn't eaten yet and it was two o'clock in the afternoon and home was an hour and a half away…and something on the sample tables smelled really good.
I spent five hundred dollars on rice milk and peanut butter and produce.
How does that happen?
I didn't even buy meat or candy or ready-made meals.
Another true story:
On the way home I was flipping through radio stations trying to find something, anything that didn't set my teeth on edge. Finally put in one of my teenager's CD's. The first song was pretty mellow, and I let the guy have free reign of my stereo system for a few minutes.
After listening to him plead, for the five hundredth time, "Don't let me go, Don't let me go…" I skipped to the next track.
The opening vocals?
"Let me go-o-o-o, Let me go-o-o-o…"
I laughed out loud.
And then I turned off the stereo and I enjoyed the silence.