Author Archives: Christene

Costco

One of my friends today posted about how Costco solved all of her problems.

I don’t think I could ever make such a claim. Not only has Costco not solved all of my problems, it hasn’t even solved some of them. In fact, for me, I believe it has created some problems.

I don’t dislike Costco. I just never have enough things to buy. There aren’t enough items on my regular grocery list that need to be bought in 200 piece lots to warrant my going there and waiting in line for an hour. Every time I have gone there, under the impression that I surely need 25 jars of peanut butter or 18 loaves of bread, I ended up being *that* person in line with one item (albeit one very large item).

So I guess that is when the problem part happens. I come home with a year’s supply of kitty food, and I haven’t the slightest clue what to do with it (hint: it goes stale before the cats get to it). Or I buy a six months supply of diapers and my kids outgrow them before we even make it half way through the pack.

One time Trish showed up to my house for dinner with what appeared to be an industrial sized bottle of vodka. I am seriously not exaggerating when I tell you it took me 3.5 years to get through this thing. And this was *after* hosting several parties, including my 25th birthday where about 40 people showed up. Hardly put a dent in this thing. Ok, so maybe this wasn’t such a problem. But still.

I suppose Costco makes sense for large families or for people who go through certain items at a very brisk pace. I mean, if they sold Starbucks coffee, I would be an avid shopper. I can drink enough coffee for three people at an alarmingly brisk pace. And for all I know they may have started selling Keurig coffee there since I last went. In fact, considering convenience stores in shady neighborhoods sell Keurig coffee these days, I am pretty sure Costco got in on it too. This should tell you how long it’s been since I have gone to Costco.

Actually it’s been so long that maybe I should give it another try. I won’t be overly optimistic; Costco is certainly not going to solve all of my problems. It probably won’t even solve most of my problems. But it might solve my insatiable coffee problem. How appropriate – baby steps at problem solving from a store that sells giant everything else.

Memories

I refuse to say his name. It brings back memories, playful and painful, loving and absolutely cold. I have stopped talking about him. Everyone and their brother is probably sick of hearing about him.

Weep, mope, get angry, feel self loathing, wonder what is wrong with me, more self loathing, weep, feel sorry for myself, repeat. How many months?

To distance myself from him I stopped saying his name, and simply began referring to him as The Man Person. I never had to explain it; it was clear who I meant. It was simultaneously affectionate, cute, and impersonal.

I would longingly speak of him until I realized how unhealthy the whole business was. Really I realized it was unhealthy months ago when I decided I was happier fantasizing about him than actually being with another man. But then again, I have never been a health nut.

Thinking about it one evening, and probably in a state of anger, it dawned on me that I had spent the larger part of the past months making excuses for him, continuing to adore him while getting little to nothing in return. My remarks of missing him getting outright dismissed and ignored, essentially the nonverbal equivalent of “fuck off,” and somehow got translated into “I am sure he cares in his own way.” The fact that I wasn’t even worth a five second text message simply didn’t register with me. Oh, I am sure he is just busy, or tired, or something. That is perfectly logical, right?

We had a wonderful time together while it lasted, but then, when I no longer entertained him, he threw me away. I know that is not how it happened (and maybe even unfair on my part), but that is what it feels like.

He left because he didn’t like X. I changed X. Then I changed Y and Z. I switched to the cryllic alphabet and learned hieroglyphics. So where is he? Oh, yes… that is right… it is not X, it is me. I was the problem, and that cannot change. And I have no excuses left. He is not here.

And I am an idiot.

Another Night…

Smaranda posted this. The video brought back a lot of memories. They shot some of the nicest parts of the city, with a lovely view of Calea Victoriei. I haven’t walked down that street in over ten years… and it hasn’t changed.

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