Dickens challenge; stationery comfort

'there was some comfort in having plenty of stationery....'

We’re just about to pass Costco when I remember I need an envelope.  We passed the post office about a mile back and as I slow down to turn round, Anniemay says “I’ll just pop into Costco - they’re bound to have some”.

There’s something fundamentally wrong with this suggestion; no-one ‘just pops’ into Costco.  The whole point of this place is to buy stuff in large quantities.  You can tell just by looking at the size of the shopping trolleys.

My concerns are swept aside and we turn in and park.  I wait in the car.  I don’t see the box as it’s shoved in the boot.  Not until I get home.  

“1000 envelopes?” 
“it was the smallest they had”.  

And then, like Mrs Bumble justifying the need for new napkins, she proceeds to tell me how useful they’ll be for all the letters I can write.  I am suitably chastened in the face of this logic; it’s not until later that I work out that at my current usage rate, I have enough for at least the next 80 years.  

Although I take a positive outlook on life and have faith in the wonders of modern medicine, this is too optimistic, even for me.  So I add a codicil to my will, thereby ensuring that our descendants get to benefit from Anniemay’s mad shopping spree foresight.  

I decide to formalise this arrangement because I do not want our great-grand children (yet to be) fighting over who got the most envelopes - worst still - a court case dragging on for generations like Jarndyce and Jarndyce.

Now I can at least take great comfort in their even greater expectations.