The parking lot was swarming with cars. So much so that I’m pretty sure the parking spot I eventually found was not in the same zip code as the front door.

But alas, I was here. I probably should be somewhere else, but I was here. So I wasn’t going to leave without accomplishing my mission. My mission being spinach, yogurt, and Cape Cod potato chips.

It was raining, of course, so I sprinted toward the door in hopes of staying somewhat dry. Huddled under the overhang were groups of ladies waiting for their fearless husbands to bring their cars to the entrance where they could unload their piled carts.

But… their husbands were taking an awfully long time. And, other than the overloaded carts under the watchful eye of these women, there was not a cart to be seen anywhere.

Actually, that isn’t true. I could see them. I could see the carts scattered around the various outskirts of the parking lot. Their tongues sticking out at me; their fingers in their ears.

I waited.

Then I took a deep breath and headed back to the other zip code.

Just call this Exhibit A in the list of evidence on why I shouldn’t go to Costco on Saturday afternoons.

For Exhibit B, and a reason why I should never go to Costco on any day of the week, you really need to look no further than my refrigerator. I have a half gallon of capers in there. Yes, capers. Capers. Those salty green peas that you use to make chicken piccata.

I guess if I’m ever accused of having nothing in my refrigerator, I can soundly defeat that accusation. Not true. I have capers.

So…what is it about Costco?

What would possess a single person who doesn’t cook to make almost weekly trips to a wholesale super store at which they check your receipt on the way out the door to make sure you’ve spent at least $100?

It isn’t the cheap gas. I long since gave up on their long, inflexible lines in effort to save $.25. Even worse, I have a little bit of a grudge against Costco gas. I pulled in one time and as I jumped out of my truck, a few dead leaves fell out of the floor board. This prompted me to pull up the mat and dump a half-teaspoon full of grit on the pavement.

That attendant was on me like white on rice.

You would have thought I was a teenage boy with six cans of spray paint for the way he accosted me and his withering look. It was a few grains of sand for Pete’s sake! Give me a dust pan; I’ll sweep them back up.

And it isn’t the free samples. I won’t say I’ve never eaten one. I won’t say I never will. But I will say I have an impeccable knack for timing my browsing in between the preparation cycles for anything that looks good. And besides that, I usually avoid them lest I feel guilty for trying something and not buying it. That’s how I came to have a box full of nasty energy drink powder in my cupboards for about two years.

And it isn’t the customer-friendly atmosphere. I have to say, I have long wondered if the sentries at the exit deter enough theft to pay two full time people to stand at the door with Sharpies. It is more likely to me that they deter customers too impatient to stand in line to pay money and then stand in line again to prove that you paid it.

So…I guess that would just leave the great prices on spinach, yogurt, and Cape Cod potato chips. And admittedly, Costco has a lot of lot of cool products. I like trying new things. And generally speaking, by the time I’ve reached the bottom of a Costco-sized bag or box or anything, I’m thoroughly sick of it and won’t be tempted to repeat my mistake.  So at the current pace, in about 88 years, I should be sick of pretty much everything at Costco and I’ll be able to kick the habit.

However, in the meantime, I’m thinking I’ll have to purchase a lot of spinach, yogurt, and potato chips to save enough pay for the capers and energy drink mixes…much less all of the items I’ve purchased to reach the $100 quota.

Good thing I have two good legs, don’t melt in the rain, and like chicken piccata.