I don’t believe in Costco. Not in the same way that I don’t believe in the Easter Bunny or trickle-down economics. Obviously, Costco is a real place, and I can even understand why it works for some people. I’ve heard talk of the sheet cakes and the giant wheels of Asiago cheese, the very fine deals on toilet paper and electronics and the cheap gas. I just don’t believe that Costco will work for me without changing my life in ways I’m not willing to accept.

Like shelving, let’s start there.

I live in a little log cabin that is probably around 1,000 square feet. If you saw it you would say, “awww cute!” and then start looking around for things like closets, cupboards, storage units. You would be disappointed because there are none. You would see plentiful white curtains draped just so to hide my flimsy shelves, open shelves that house some very tasteful stoneware in neutral colors, maybe four bowls and four plates total. There are blankets and pillows everywhere. Tablecloths, vases of flowers, leather poufs I bought in Morocco even though I probably could have bought them here for half the price. All of these are meant to train your eye away from the fact that my house is basically an empty shell with log walls and sunshine and an inexplicable tree trunk in the middle. I love it. When I wake up in the morning, I make my coffee and find a patch of sun, looking around and thinking to myself, “Wow. Cute.”

But storage space is at a real premium, and storage to go shopping for extra stuff sold in giant boxes? Not happening. Even if buying those giant boxes might save me some dollars and cents, I am not going to radically redesign my house to hold them — or, God forbid, move.

Instead, I just buy regular sizes of things and use them until I am finished. Then I go to the store to buy more regular sizes of things when I have freed up enough precious cupboard space for them again.

My friends worry about me. They despair that I’m not getting the maximum deal on cold cuts. They’re worried that I will never enjoy the singular flavor of a Costco hot dog as I wander the wide aisles with my very own member card, ready to roll the dice and see what ends up in my cart. Will today be the day I bulk-buy Kirkland brand sweatshirts for the whole family? Will I finally buy all of the ingredients for a do-it-myself charcuterie board that will take me through several neighborhood parties and also the next season of Bridgerton? Answer: not gonna happen.

These same friends, all well-intentioned if completely indoctrinated into the cult of Costco, have protested my very sound reasoning that I simply do not have enough space to store 16 cans of chicken noodle soup in my pantry. I don’t, in fact, even have a pantry. I’ve been told to buy shelving systems from IKEA to store my imagined wares, to shuffle things around in my bedroom simply for the idea of future bags of Cheez-Its and 10 pound bags of rice. One friend who also lives in a small space proudly told me that she bought a new bed with storage underneath for exactly those items. Yet I do not want to sleep on dozens and dozens of bottles of tomato sauce.

You might think that Costco would have been a grand idea when I was in the throes of raising four boys on my own. Even back then, you and all of my friends would be wrong. I think Costco is a great organization and I do always enjoy it when someone brings me along for an afternoon of browsing. I’m like a dog who gets excited over a ride in the car, just happy to come along and see what my people are up to today. I’ve gone in on that giant Asiago wheel and the toilet paper with friends.

I’m just not willing to build a bunker on my property to store my someday Costco purchases. Sorry, Costco.

Jen McGuire is a contributing writer for Romper and Scary Mommy. She lives in Canada with four boys and teaches life writing workshops where someone cries in every class. When she is not traveling as often as possible she’s trying to organize pie parties and outdoor karaoke with her neighbors. She will sing Cher’s “If I Could Turn Back Time” at least once but she’s open to requests.