Why I Love/Hate Price Clubs
I belong to a price club. Let's call it "Bostco" for the sake of anonymity. I just had a Bostco lunch. Not a slice of pizza or hot dog at the store food court, but a lunch comprised of the weird collection of food in my fridge that "Bostco" forces me to get rid of in order to make room for the enormous quantities of food I just bought there. I love/hate Bostco.
I love/hate Bostco for several reasons.
1. I hate grocery shopping. I know this is a problem of privilege. Poor me, I’m lucky enough to have the chore of filling my refrigerator and cabinets with food. The fact that I’ve got it a lot better than most of the world is not lost on me, but I still loathe the task. It’s because of this guilt at my fortunate circumstance that I force myself to eat leftovers in the fridge rather than waste them. No, I don’t eat moldy cheese or spoiled milk. A girl's gotta have her standards. But my lunch today was a quarter of a glass of strawberry smoothie, two steamed vegetable dumplings, black bean salsa on Ritz crackers because I don’t have tortilla chips, some wrinkly grapes, a questionable tomato, a half a cup of yogurt and three pickles. Ew.
2. It’s physically hard to shop at Bostco. Most of my purchases are heavy and unwieldy and won’t fit into any type of bag. I know the whole point is buy in bulk to save money, but I bought a vat of liquid hand soap so gigantic I’m going to have to provide for it in my will. My grandchildren will use this hand soap. The only family that could possibly use this much antibacterial hand soap in their lifetime would be a family of surgeons who work out of their home.
3. If you’ve got some lonely olives or a sprained ankle, don’t come to my house. I had to take the vodka and ice packs out of the freezer to make way for three half gallons of ice cream and a bag of frozen broccoli the size of a large bed pillow.
4. My fridge has four half gallons of orange juice, three half gallons of whole organic milk, twelve cups of yogurt and blocks of cheese large enough to sit on.
5. I bought a pallet of Bounty paper towels. When I got home I realized they’ve got Precious Moments characters printed on them with sayings like “God is love” and “Jesus loves you.” They can’t just sneak Jesus into seemingly secular household items. Then my dog peed on the kitchen floor. Now I’ve got to wipe up urine with God. I’ve got enough Catholic guilt without having to feel sacrilegious for cleaning up. Now every time my dog’s incontinent I have to ask myself, “What would Jesus do?”
On the flipside, I love the samples. Before my smoothie/pickle/dumpling/grape/tomato/black bean lunch out of my fridge, I had spanikopita and these killer dark chocolate pomegranate thingies that I ended up buying two huge (is there any other size?) bags of.
I love/hate Bostco.