I’ve always had a penchant for snagging a good deal. A few years back, when a neighborhood pharmacy announced its closure, my partner, Mark, and I couldn’t resist stopping by to see what was on offer. To our astonishment, it was their last day, and everything was marked down by a whopping 90 percent—or we could snag a massive bag for just five bucks and fill it to our heart’s content. We were definitely the big bag type!
After forking over ten dollars, we bolted to the medication aisle, only to find it nearly bare. No Pepto, Tylenol, or Band-Aids, but there was a gigantic jug of milk of magnesia. “We don’t even use that,” Mark pointed out. “Oh come on,” I replied, “it’s practically free! Just grab it!”
Next, we scoured the personal care section. The shelves were devoid of moisturizer, shampoo, or cotton balls, but there it was—a whole shelf of Coppertone sunblock. “How did people overlook these?” I mused as I tossed twenty bottles into my bag. “This stuff is pricey!”
Turning the corner, we stumbled upon a bizarre display of banana slicers. “Who thought these were a good idea?” I questioned, shaking my head. Mark laughed, “It’s more hassle to clean than just using a knife!” Naturally, we snagged a dozen anyway.
As the loudspeaker announced, “Only five minutes left,” panic set in. Mark and I quickly split up to maximize our haul—he dashed to foot care while I sprinted to the beauty aisle, only to find it stripped bare of anything useful. I pivoted towards the greeting cards instead.
In the chaos, shoppers were snatching up anything they could find, and I joined in, grabbing cards without even glancing at them. Then, my eyes caught some vibrant book covers with playful, albeit chaotic, designs. “How could these be missed?” I exclaimed, possibly letting out a maniacal laugh as I gathered forty packs.
Returning to our car, we burst into laughter as we reviewed our strange collection. “Wait, Mark,” I said, “seven packs of replacement blades for corn removers? We don’t even have corns!” He chuckled, “And this home testing kit for kidney disease? Do we really need this?” Our bags overflowed with items even Goodwill wouldn’t take—light bulbs for appliances we didn’t own and greeting cards with bizarre captions like, “Why do men like breasts? Because they’re nice!”—not to mention over $111 worth of suntan lotion, enough to last a lifetime, even if we lived in the tropics.
Mark then raised an eyebrow at the book covers. “What’s the plan for those?” he asked. “I thought we could hand them out on Halloween,” I replied. “Kids don’t want book covers; they want candy!” he countered. “We’ll give them candy too,” I insisted. “It’ll be a bonus!”
On Halloween night, I eagerly set up shop at our door. The first trick-or-treaters arrived, and I complimented their costumes while giving out fistfuls of chocolate and a pack of book covers. Not one of them said, “Thanks!” Perhaps this is just the entitlement generation; they haven’t all been raised with manners.
As the evening continued, another group of kids—Buzz Lightyear, Tinkerbell, and Shrek—approached. I handed out good candy and more book covers. Their reactions were underwhelming; Tinkerbell looked at me as if I’d gifted her a Brillo Pad.
This pattern repeated until an eight-year-old Batman rang the bell with a six-year-old cop. I excitedly handed them candy and the dreaded book covers. “She must be trying to get rid of these,” Batman whispered to his friend. “What? I’m not!” I protested, defending my generosity. “If you check your bag, you’ll see I’ve given you the good stuff—not those lame Mary Janes or old lady sesame candies!”
Mark overheard and chuckled, “You’re arguing with trick-or-treaters?” He closed the door, leaving me to ponder how I could have thought they would appreciate the book covers. I would have loved them! Other people are so predictable with their pennies and cheap erasers.
So, I’ve learned my lesson. Now I stick to classic treats like Milky Ways and Butterfingers. But if Batman ever darkens my doorstep again, I’ll be ready with a banana slicer just for him.
If you’re looking for more parenting tips and insights, check out our post on home insemination kits for those navigating parenthood. For additional resources, the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists offers great information on treating infertility.
Summary:
In a humorous recount of a bargain-hunting adventure, Lila and her partner Mark experience the chaos of a closing pharmacy sale, resulting in an eclectic collection of useless items. Their Halloween trick-or-treating experience highlights the generational shift in appreciation, leaving Lila bemused at the lack of gratitude for her unconventional treats. The piece humorously explores parenting challenges and the nuances of dealing with children’s expectations.
Keyphrase: Parenting Bargains
Tags: [“home insemination kit”, “home insemination syringe”, “self insemination”]