I’m Not Allowed In Costco

I'm not allowed in costco rebekah koontz writer rebecca coonts counts rebekha funny humor life

Over the course of this year, I have tried and signed up for many a new thing, all on the journey to become—what I refer to as—”a real adult grown up human person.”

Wifi bills. Accounting apps. Dental insurance.

And getting my own Costco card.

Oh yeah. I went out and dun’it. Got my photo taken and everything.

Stupid black-and-white photo on the back of that card makes me look like a smiling, psychopathic serial killer. But whatever.

Fruit Ninja

We were back at Costco this morning.

Can’t get enough of that place.

I’m sick of it, and I’m sure it’s sick of me. However, their “lawn chair section” got totally disassembled and in it’s place was pallets and pallets of cute little lawn bushes. But man, they work fast. Like elves. I mean, we were in there yesterday, weren’t we?

I bet you’re wondering why we were back. Or maybe you’re already going, “oh no, there was a problem. .”

Yup. That exactly.


Today we had planned to hit the road again, but my mom wasn’t feeling well. It worked for the better, though, because all three of us needed the day to recharge our batteries.

We slept in. It was glorious. Then we leisurely got dressed and caught a shuttle out to the Fashion Centre for a breakfast/lunch of Popeye’s, which ended up being three dollars more than what we pay back home but was really good.

We shopped around a little, then walked across the street to Costco. We had been in there a few days ago looking at phones, and I have to say, I got a little obsessed.