Too Much

At Costco, even the snow comes in bulk.

And, yes, I was insane enough to venture there last weekend, with a headache, to try to find one last gift that I've been seeking.

Big mistake. Huge.

I push my oversized card through their oversized aisles, and am trying my best to remember that this is the holiday season, and that means good cheer and tidings to men and all that, but I was on the verge of a breakdown.

Too hot, too many people, too few registers open, too much to drink the night before, too loud, too hard to find a parking space, too crabby.

And then I hear it. Holiday music tinkling out above the rest of the din. I look around, and realize it is a a young boy, seated at the upright keyboard, and he was playing songs for the passersby. He couldn't have been more than 10, and he was playing brilliantly. Sweet look on his face, calm manner, just playing away.

He moved on from holiday numbers to assorted compositions you'd recognize (but that I can't name). It was beautiful.

I was moved, and momentarily forgot my distaste for the oversized giant of a headache-inducing place that is Costco on a Saturday in December.

I grabbed a case of beer, loaded the lumpy box into the cart, and made it to the checkout aisle. The bottom of the box was curiously weak, and somewhat damp, and I could only imagine what was hiding out on the bottom of my Stella Artois. But, it was the last case, and I had special friends coming in town that preferred the beer, so I went for it.

When I got home, and began to unload the beer into the fridge, I realize that not one, but TWO of the bottles were broken in their place, and the beer had clearly soaked through the box. Little dead soldiers still in their cardboard cells.

It was very sad. But, not worth driving back to Costco for, that's for sure. Tried to recall the sound of the music the boy played. I needed it to erase the sad sight of two broken bottles amidst all of the lovely green glass.

Drank one. That did the trick.