Drowning in Dominos

I’ve been sucked in to the latest supermarket promotion.

That’s right, I have been. Not the kids.

You get one free packaged Pixar Domino Star for every $20 spent. I can’t seem to say no when Brenda, Bernie….or Bradley, inform me that I have earnt six collectable Domino Stars. How could I say no? They are collectable; they must be valuable.

I’ve toiled the aisles and spent hundreds of dollars. In return for my efforts, I am offered a reward. I reply “Yes, I am collecting dominos, just throw them in the bag, any bag, yes the one with the eggs, that’s fine……would you like some extras?….. Yes, I would, thank you Brenda, Bernie or Bradley. See you next time.”

The said dominos now litter the surface of the kitchen bench, the window sill and the dining table; they scatter haphazardly across the art nouveau rug in the living room, some opened, some not.

Some ride abreast the Domino Stars Stunt Bridge, forming an upright chain that winds around the room, just a footstep or two away from collapse; others sit tightly slotted into the collectable carry case where a couple of empty slots remain, for now.

With daily, sometimes twice or thrice daily additions, the collection is excessive. Soon enough they will be consumed by Henry, the vacuum cleaner, sent to the op shop or simply tossed straight into the bin.

The problem is that I still can’t refuse the rewards when I’m offered them at the check-out. I wonder if it’s the gleaning of a nostalgic wave, the embodiment of times past in which cereal packets harboured surprise figurines, bicycle spokies and Australian native bird collectable cards; recalling, perhaps the simplicity of an era seemingly gone.

Meanwhile, the kitchen is in short supply of bread, milk and eggs. The strawberries are mouldy and apparently, there’s nothing to eat.

 I’m off to the supermarket.

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