Today Only: CIaim Your Ninja CREAMi Ice Cream Maker + 12/month Courtesy Membership

Warehouse STR 1254: Details beneath for your records and arrangements. I plan on coming by around the same hour as before. I'm aware there are several different windows they could arrive. We may want to adjust the alternative appointments to match the slot that works for them next week. I'll coordinate and confirm my visit for the repeated schedule. Most mornings, my meal is simply bread with margarine and jam, paired with oat milk and herbal infusions for my calcium intake. Should I crave something warm, I'll heat oat milk or choose a peppermint tea. When winter comes, or after a lengthy bike ride, a hearty bowl of porridge with soya milk, sometimes with beans on toast and an egg, keeps my energy up for the longer journey—essential when cycling over 40 to even 60 miles to see family and still make the return trip home! Costco WHOLESALE CLUB Greetings, Exclusive Update for Valued Members! We're eager to learn about your recent visits—share your feedback and enjoy a complimentary token of appreciation from us. When you participate you have the chance to receive: • Yearlong Membership Extension Both current and new members will be able to take advantage of unrestricted shopping benefits. • Ninja CREAMi Machine Bonus The first 5,000 respondents will qualify, as long as supplies remain. This limited window is a rare perk—let us know what improves your warehouse experience and have a hand in future changes. Complete a brief questionnaire and ensure your opinions shape how we serve our members. Every response allows us to enhance the Costco experience for you and others. Redeem Your Membership Year Ninja CREAMi » We're grateful you've made Costco your preferred destination. We're always improving to provide the best membership perks and values. Sincerely, Costco Member Relations Team 2025 Costco Wholesale. The hush of early dawn stretches through every quiet room, unfurling softly over the still world. Faint light glows on tabletops, tall cabinets, the surfaces turning honey–warm where it lands. A thousand tiny reflections shimmer from glassware left out from the night before. Somewhere, footsteps make only the briefest sound, slippers brushing lightly over wooden floorboards. Maybe there is music playing far away, no louder than breath, weaving in and out of the quiet. Out in the gentle street, bicycles pass, their tires whispering secrets on new pavement; a distant car hums as morning unspools. A neighbor's early greeting drifts through the air, then fades. Newspapers gather on doorsteps. Nearby, the sound of water running in a sink signals the first start of the day. In windows, potted basil and rosemary catch the sunshine that sneaks past shifting curtains. The scent of toast mixes with the chill above the tiled counters. Linger for a moment in these unhurried interludes—the rise and fall of living slows, as if the clock has given permission for extra peace. The first sip from a mug, the fresh cool of air as a window is pushed open, the tick of the kitchen clock—it's all weighted with the promise of new time ahead. The world breathes in the day and lets it go. There's a language to the ordinary: laundry folded, keys dropped in a bowl, children's voices rising somewhere outside then dropping to a murmur. Cats sprawl in a stripe of sunlight. Somewhere, someone is quietly learning the route to their next task, while in the sky above, small clouds drift aimlessly by. Simple moments bring their own riches, even as the world keeps moving beyond the window glass. When the afternoon arrives trailing golden beams, light patterns break and scatter across the floor. Shadows bend and merge, painting the room in gentle blues. Time feels slower—each page turned, each drawer opened, each quiet song of air humming by. There are stories pressed into the smallest spaces: laughter on a phone call, a sigh of relief when the door is closed at last, old notes tucked away and discovered on a new day. As twilight deepens, walls hush and gather coolness, the corners darkening into comfort. The last aromas of dinner drift away, leaving contentment in their place. Across rooftops, a spread of muted color signals the day's slow retreat as night quietly sweeps in. Later, fingers tap softly on book spines, and the warmth of blanket and memory meet. The world shrinks, offering a final peace—a bowl of quiet at your feet, a field of stars above, the slow, rhythmic pulse of night as everything waits for dawn to begin again.