Playing by the rules

My dad likes the hard candy called "Nips." The chocolate parfait kind. Little, individually wrapped candies that come in a cellophane-wrapped box.

Walgreens is the go-to place to buy Nips. It's not that they are cheaper there every day, but Walgreens offers the best sale prices on the candy, by far. Nips usually are about 99 cents a box; this week's Walgreens ad had a three boxes for $2 coupon - at 67 cents a box, that's just about as good as it gets.

When I see such sales, I'll check in with my dad to see how his supply is. If he's running low, I'll go out to buy some to bring the next time I'm home.

It can be tricky to find them. Chocolate parfait Nips are a hot commodity when they go on sale; more often than not, I'll go to a Walgreens and find the shelves cleared (there always are coffee Nips left, though. I like them, but my dad does not). Clearly, I'm not the only one in Duluth on the lookout for these sales.

In the past, Walgreens has had such deals with no limit on quantity. One time, at the old Miller Hill Mall Walgreens, I scored the jackpot - a super sale, and a freshly-stocked shelf of maybe 40 boxes of chocolate parfait Nips.

I bought them all. I stacked them in a shopping basket and dumped them out at the checkout. I think the cashier said something along the lines of "Somebody likes this candy." I replied, "Yeah, my dad is a big fan." I know she totally thought I was lying, and that I was in fact the Nips glutton. It troubled me for a bit.

This time, the coupon said limit six. I stopped by the West Duluth Walgreens. Cleared out. Then I went to the new Walgreens up by the mall. Tons - maybe a couple dozen boxes. But that coupon limit. Rats!

I should have just asked the cashier if she could just ring up four different transactions, or if there was some other way to get around the "rule." But, slave to obeying rules that I am, I rather sheepishly just brought my six boxes to the counter and left.

I ran a couple more errands. It was an hour later, I was in the area... oh, what the heck, I'll go back. I'm sure there will be a different cashier. Just in case, I put on my winter hat. I hadn't worn it the first time I went in. I thought it might make me harder to remember. Honestly, that's what I thought. I'm nuts.

The "disguise"

I walked in. The same cashier. Rats again! Well, it had been an hour... she probably had had 30 or 40 customers since then. I got six more boxes and took them to the counter.

"Back for more?" she asked.

Caught!

"Yeah. It's a good price."

As anyone could have predicted, she clearly did not care about the six-box limit. She rang up the candy, and I headed home with 12 boxes of Nestle Nips.

Things found, Vol. 1

Found this morning: New black fleece hat

Location: Under a coat on a chair in the downstairs bedroom

Things missing, Vol. 1

My old black hat, pressed back into service upon the disappearance of my new black hat.

Missing:

My can opener (I have looked at the cans of Spaghetti-Os at lunchtime for a week now, with no way to open them)

My new black fleece hat

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I'm about ready to give up on the can opener and buy a new one. I had the old one since college; it has opened cans of Spaghetti-Os in three dorm rooms, eight apartments in three states, and now my house. I find it hard to give up on something that's been around so long, even if it is a can opener. I guess that's why I'm a packrat.

I've reverted back to my old black fleece hat. It's OK - I've had it for years - but it has lost its fleeciness. I finally replaced it a month ago with its identical (but new) twin, and enjoyed its fleecy comfort for a few weeks before it went missing over the weekend.

My old black hat and I have been through a lot, so we'll be fine. I bought it at a sports store in Tacoma, Wash., in 2003 or 2004. It - like the new one - is a plain black Columbia hat. One winter in Juneau, I lost it. I thought I had maybe dropped it in the parking lot at work, but I wasn't sure. I mourned for it. Then, a few months later, I was walking out to my car after work, past the massive mound of melting snow that had been plowed over the winter, and I saw it - encased in gray snow and ice, bedraggled, wet and forlorn. Apparently it had been picked up by the snowplow. I washed it a few times, and - though never quite as soft as before - it was put back into service.

Then, a few weeks ago, I happened to be back in Washington state on vacation. I was driving from Seattle to Portland, Ore., and as I was going through Tacoma I recognized the sports store where I bought my old hat. It was a different chain now. I was ready for a new hat, so I pulled off the highway, went in and found a rack with new Columbia hats, identical to my old one. I bought one. I kind of like the coincidence. It's also a souvenir of sorts - a useful souvenir.

Now, if only I could find it.