My Happy Place

I love Target. It's my happy place. The lighting is bright and cheery, the aisles and shelves are full of tempting items, and the carts are red. One day we were going over our budget and Curly asked me if it were necessary for me to stop at the snack bar every time I went to Target. I gave him a withering look. He then said, "We'll just count that as 'entertainment.'" Indeed. I go in, get a popcorn combo, two bags, please, and then we walk up and down the aisles. Sometimes we go to look at the kitchen supplies. We check out the seasonal section, my favorites being Halloween and Christmas. Always we go look at the cars. Most of the time we don't even buy anything. We just look and talk. I write down book titles I want to add to my library list. We find movies we want to rent from the RedBox. Patch and Mini-me talk about what they want for their birthdays or from Santa. And then I dream about the giant house we'll have in Pittsburgh* someday. A house with a linen closet. A house with at least 2 full bathrooms, one of which will have a soaker tub. This house will, of course, come with maid service. The lawn will be green and lush. I'll be able to park my car in the garage. Ah, Pittsburgh. They have a nice Target there, too.

*We have no plans to move to Pittsburgh. Curly's company is headquartered there. Mini-me's favorite football team is there. The most delicious sandwiches are there. When anyone says "I wish we had ______," I tell them: "When we move to Pittsburgh." I hope we never do.