Kicked Out of Costco

Despite being on basically house arrest, I am allowed a 20 minute walk each day. I've figured out that I can get to the Trader Joe's and back in 20 minutes; I can't buy anything, but I can touch the doors, look at all the shiny products and people and then head back home. And I can make it to the bank and back, and if there isn't a line I can even deposit my tutoring checks! And I can make it to the beautiful church on 27th Street and back: so close to the 25th St downtown, and yet so far....

On Sunday, Bruno offered me a special treat: the chance to take my 20 minute walk in the Costco! That is an old-school date, the kind we had when Bruno was in grad school and we had neither time nor money to spare. I was thrilled. It was a chilly day, so I swept my cape over my sweatpants (odd combo I know, but not much is still fitting at this point), and off we went.

We entered the store and the heady mix of crowd and commerce made me instantly giddy; I glided through the aisles, delighted by the difference in scenery and energy. Bruno, pushing the cart behind me, was having quite a different reaction, however.

"Get over here", he hissed. It took me a moment to realize he was hissing at me. "You've got to protect yourself better. These people, they're all morons!" I looked back at him in confusion. "Come here, " he commanded.

I returned to him, where I was held onto and steered like the cart, and we continued to mosey through the store. As each person approached, Bruno tightened and muttered commands and judgments. " "Stay over here." "Is that guy blind?" "Don't walk so fast." "What an idiot!" "I hate people!". Oh my good G-d.

Soon, the hand on my shoulder became uncomfortably tight, so when he next released his grip to go pick up a product, I stealthily returned to my position walking in front of our cart. At which point, Bruno, in his zeal to protect me from others, ran me over with our cart himself! OK, he just ran over my heel, but from the explosion that followed you would have thought I'd darted out into traffic without checking both ways.

"You!....I!!....SEE!!!" he spluttered, red-faced and spitting. "GET OUT!" I turned around to see if he was serious; oh my, yes. I decided it wasn't worth fussing about, so I gave him a kiss on the cheek, took the keys, and told him I'd be sitting in the car waiting.

What in the world is he going to do once our darling girls actually get here?