this is how I roll

Yesterday I opened a flyer and saw the bedside lamps I had been eyeing last month had been marked down.  If that isn't a sign that they are meant to be mine, I don't know what one would be.  I mean, doesn't that mean it was meant to be?  Oh I know those lamps and I were meant to be together, because why else would I take the time to read a sale flyer from my favourite store?  Don't shatter my delusional thinking please.  My methods of rationalization keep me happy.

Now for something completely different, yet not completely unrelated, I have a new addiction.

I love buying in bulk.

When fulfilling my new addiction, I must always keep in mind that we live in a very small three room space.  Buying in bulk must be done with restraint and realism, but still: it's so much fun and it makes my cheap side just squeal like a school girl seeing Chuck Bass.  OMG why am I so into that show?  Holy cow, I just can't get enough.  But back to my other addiction.

I cannot get enough of getting something in bulk.  I swear it makes me all giggly when I score.  Sweet juju, I'm a warehouse shopping junkie.

Currently, I have a drum of peanut butter, a mega block of cheese, and fifteen pounds of butter in the fridge.

I create functional furniture out of crates of diapers, which sadly is coming to an end with this blasted potty training.  That drop of product from our shopping may possibly force us into finding real dressers.

And now I'm trying to build a new couch out of palettes of toilet paper but so far I've only made a foot stool.

But next time I make it to Costco, I'm totally finishing that project.  I'm thinking that I should reenforce the couch bottom with KD and paper towel.  Those longer rolls make for better support don'tcha think?

And this is the kind of stuff that you find in my brain.

And if you are interested in stuff that makes me laugh, head on over to Mrs. Chicky's and Oh The Joys to see the winners of the October ROLFs. My nomination almost made me electrocute myself while reading, that's how hard I cried.  Tears on the keyboard is dangerous stuff, but if asked to read it again, I would if only to hear the word Qbert just one more time.  Totally worth risking death.