Seeing with new eyes

I used to hate CostCo.

Well, hate is a strong word; and, in truth, I love CostCo. You can buy cheese in 5 pound blocks there. Anywhere you can buy cheese in near-weight-lifting-units is OK by me. So, to be more specific, I hate the people that go to CostCo (and lest you think you can catch me in a logic-loop by pointing out that I go to CostCo and could not possibly hate myself and therefore cannot hate all CostCo-ites, don’t bother. I do hate myself… loathe me in fact, so my reasoning is sound. But I digress…).

The people there tend to be entirely too slow, completely devoid of peripheral vision, and carrying in tow one to two *twitch* children that take it upon themselves *twitch twitch* to scream uncontrollably for no apparent reason for minutes on end *twitch twitch twitch* to the point where you can hear them from every corner of the store even though you’ve been there for over an hour and it then infuriates you to the point where you start yelling SHUTTUP to no one in particular especially as said children really are all the way on the other side of the store so your remonstrations seem to be directed to the grandmotherly 80 year old that seems startled and saddened that you are now for some reason yelling at her! *twitch twitch twitch twitch twitch twitch*

But all that’s in the past. Now I look at CostCo like it was always meant to be viewed, and I’m much happier for it: a seductive siren that draws sadists in to torture themselves for one to two hours.

I must admit, it is astoundingly good at its job.