I’ve decided to join AA. That’s AirMiles Anonymous, for the uninitiated.
I have a problem. I have to face that problem. It’s running my life.
I cannot go into the grocery store without being lured by the siren song of Bonus Air Miles.
Oh, sure, the odd time? I can pick up three jars of marmalade for the 5 bonus Air Miles it offers me, and hardly even think twice. Bonus Air Miles on ketchup? Oh, well then, let me get a few.
But this month? They’re offering 20 and 25 and 30 bonus Air Miles at a shot.
I’m out of hand.
Two weeks ago? I bought 20 cases of pop. Well, you got 20 bonus Air Miles each time you bought 2. And 30 if you got 2 six-packs of paper towels (I got 4). Kleenex, cheese, taco shells, soup… I bought it ALL, baby.
Who leaves the grocery store with a cart full of cheese and paper towels? It’s insane.
Sure, I’ve gotten something like 400 or 500 Air Miles so far. That’s going to get me a few movie passes, or some gift certificates at Chapters, or almost half a microwave or something. And it’s not like I can never use paper towels with 4 barfing cats around. And doG knows, BDH loves him some Diet Pepsi. All that stuff’s not going to go BAD.
Well, except for the cheese, maybe.
But… I’m running out of storage space.
And honestly? How many granola bars can a person eat, anyway? (Although, they’re perfect for travel to Ethiopia…)
It’s an illness. I must be stopped.
If they combined Air Miles with coupons, I’d be able to build a bunker out of boxes of Kleenex. Don’t worry, there’d be lots of soup and taco shells to eat.
The withdrawal at the end of this promotion is going to kill me dead, I tell you.