It’s not polite to brag but y’all should know I’m a member of a club. It’s a very large club and the food prepared and served at my club is, for the most part, very tasty if a tad heavy on frozen items that can be quickly sauteed in a small electric skillet. My club doesn’t have a head chef so much as a skilled team of cooks who have the odd habit of screaming things like “NORTH ATLANTIC COD FINGERS!!!” as you stroll by.

While at my club—I’ll let you be my guest anytime–you may want to find the perfect book to read beside the pool. There’s a vast “library” to choose from. Need a new float? So many choices. Prescription sunnies? You can get those at my club.

Which by now, you surely recognize as Costco. My Costco addiction is real. It’s the only club membership I have, and I’m besotted with it. One of the perks of membership is a free subscription to the monthly magazine, “Costco Connection,” which we members read from cover to cover. It’s filled with recipes, stories about fun finds in the store and way too many articles about vitamins.

But imagine my surprise when this month’s club magazine had a feature on Costco’s casket and cremation urn selections.

Wait, what? Am I the only member who didn’t know they sell caskets at Costco? Also, how? It’s too much of a psychic switcheroo to go from grazing on pizza rolls and coconut water to think, “Well, long as we’re here, let’s go get us a CASKET!”

Where are they? I have never seen them displayed at my Costco but maybe they’re near automotive where I have never ventured because the smell of tires makes me woozy.

The article answered all my questions, of course.

“When someone is purchasing a casket, it’s typically needed very quickly,” said Costco buyer Michael Holley, adding delivery is usually made between 24 and 48 hours.

What?!? It took two weeks to get my Cal King mattress delivered from Costco. Perhaps I should’ve splurged on a casket and had them toss the mattress on top for good measure.

Also a few boxes of those Tate’s chocolate chip cookies since you’re coming anyway. And some paper towels…

“Our job is to reduce stress and be an alternative voice to the funeral director,” said casket manufacturer Joshua Siegel. “We treat every Costco member as though they were part of our family.”

That’s so nice. So which one of you is bringing the Jell-O salad to the house? Because if you’re really fam, somebody better be showing up with something full of mini marshmallows that jiggles when you set it down on the sideboard.

Holley, the Costco buyer, stressed how well they take care of the caskets during delivery. “It’s not like buying a television,” he said.

Well, no. If you buy a TV from Costco, you always get approving, vaguely envious looks from the other members as you leave. You respond with a half-embarrassed smile and nod because, well, nobody really needs a TV this big.  If you walk outta there with a casket, it’s going to look a little creepy. And people will think you’re kind of a jerk if you park it over to the side while you grab a shockingly cheap hot dog. “Meemaw can wait” is all that says.

When you finally roll it out the door will they hold up on blacklining your receipt so they can look inside to make sure you’re not smuggling 12 packs of Neutrogena face wipes and a pub tub of pretzels?

As it turns out, the caskets are sold online through a special program called Costco Next, which sounds vaguely creepy but admittedly better than Kirkland Kaskets. My club truly does think of everything.