If there's anything you can't buy at Costco, I'm almost sure I don't want it. Okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but not much. Give me those industrial sized containers of detergent, those pallets of giant muffins, those cartons of granola bars yearning to breathe free. I live for shopping at Costco. It appeals to my sensible shopper and to my self-indulgence at the very same time. A match made in heaven.
Having lived for entirely too long in the South, I can tell you that Sam's Club and BJ's just don't begin to compare. Costco has Jones Soda, entire wheels of Brie, and even giant scallops, for cripes sake. What more could you want? Wait, a hot dog and soda with refills for $1.50? You've got it! Costco is worth every bit of my membership and then some.
It's very convenient having the Vancouver Costco in place now; I'm not as fond of the Portland store, which is busier and not as nice. (Although, inexplicably, the Portland Costco carries giant jars of sun dried tomatoes packed in oil and, as far as I can tell, the Vancouver Costco does not.) The Vancouver Costco is also an easy in/easy out, right off 205. I get all blissed out every time I find a parking space close by. (That's the parking lot on the left side as you face the store entrance, near where they put the shopping carts. I'll probably be sorry I told everyone that.) Ahh, Costco. You do me good, even if my terrible grainy mugshot does put me in my place.