Extreme couponers are stealing my recycling. Once I put it to the curb it’s in the public domain, I suppose, but when a black Ford Econoline creeps slowly in front of the house at 3am, it creates unease. Why was I up at that hour? Teething.
I tried my first coupon at Costco over the weekend, to see what it’s like. I put it towards a 32-pack of Diet Dr. Pepper. In the days following I’ve had 13 of them, if for no other reason than they are dominating my refrigerator. I found the crumpled receipt from the trip in my pocket this morning; no discounts noted. After all my clipping efforts to arrive at that point, she didn’t even scan it . I feel violated. But that may be due to the excess phenylalanine in my system.
You don’t need Korkers and breathables for the duck ponds, just ditch kickers for the goose shit. In the context of locale, it all seems askew, like reading Wired on microfiche.
The salt water is calling, about 30 minutes from my house, but work keeps me flying to the midwest. There are no albies in Indiana.