915. The Day I Moved Into Target (Part II)

Please read Part I if you have not done so already.  Part II will make more sense then. 
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“Do you need me to call Security?” offered Richard protectively.  “Is this man bothering you?” 

This man was my husband, and he was bothering me by following me to Target when I was trying to escape him and the kids. 

“Richard, it’s okay,” I replied.  “I know him.”   

Richard hovered around anyway, eavesdropping and pretending to dust something.  Instead of being annoyed, I was oddly comforted.     

“MOV, I can see why you like this place,” said The Husband.  “It’s much cleaner than our house.” 

How could I be insulted when that is exactly why I liked Target, too? 

“Sweetie, whaddya say you take the boys to look at the Lego displays, and then I will meet you back home in a few weeks?” 

“Weeks?!  Did you say weeks, MOV?” 

He knew I wasn’t kidding around.  Target was my happy place, the place that made my heart rhythm smooth out somewhere between stroke victim and coma.  I normally wanted to come here for a few hours, but I could hardly see the harm a slight upgrade in time might cause.  In fact, after I returned home from some serious “Me” time, I might be able to tolerate my family for up to a whole year.

“Mom, we miss you!  No one is at home to boss us around when you’re not there,” said Short. 

Tall, always thinking, whispered to his brother, “Maybe that is a good thing?”

They looked at each other, then were overcome by a cascade of giggles, building on each other like bubbles, expanding and popping. 

“We’re free!  We’re free!” cried the older one. 

“We’re trees!  We’re trees!” copied the younger one, making me realize I really need to get his hearing checked.

A small crowd of Target employees was gathering to see what the commotion was near the furniture aisle.  You’d think they had never had any customers move in before. 

“You are all ruining this for me,” I hissed through clenched teeth, “go home and I will come back eventually!” 

The Husband leaned into to give me a quick kiss, but I turned away.  Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out what I thought might be a love note. 

It wasn’t.  It was something better. 

“Here, MOV,” he said as he handed me a coupon for $2 off Häagen Daz ice-cream.  “You might need this.” 

And just like that, I fell back in love with him. 

MOV

197. Why Target Is My BFF

After Our Computer’s near brush with death, it got me thinking: who is important in my life? who do I love and cherish and want to spend more time with? It didn’t take me long to think up an answer: Target.

Target has been my best friend for, oh, about twelve years now. I try to think back to the time before Target was a valuable member of my inner circle of friends, and, honestly, my memory goes all hazy. Was I even alive before I discovered Target? Could you even call that living?

I think not.

My best friend Target has enriched my life in so many ways (and I don’t just mean material ways, although she has always come through for me there too). Target is one of those pals who seems to somehow know just what you are missing in your life (say, a trashy celebrity gossip magazine or a new sports-watch or perhaps a jumbo bag of peanut m&ms) and then provide it.

Who was there for me at 9:55 PM to offer brand new pacifiers when my infant would not stop screaming? Target. Who found me a new soft and fuzzy red cardigan sweater when The Husband ruined my old favorite by tossing it in the dryer? That’s right: Target. Who came through in the end with last-minute school supplies for Tall when we waited until the day before school started to shop? You guessed it! Target.

Like most great friendships, this one did not develop overnight. It began as a sort of innocent crush from afar. One day I happened to pick up House Beautiful magazine, and there on page 132, was a small silver and white birdhouse with three little drawers in it (I know it sounds kooky, but you’ll just have to trust me when I say it was exquisite). The fact that I did not own a bird, nor a yard in which to attempt to capture a potential bird, did not stop me from coveting said birdhouse. In fact, there was no deterrent at all, as the price was listed as a mere $19.95 plus tax.

Having never heard of Target before that day, I immediately asked my elderly landlady if she knew where the closest Target was (she did), and I got directions and drove there.

I decided to use my new birdhouse to put mail in. Junk mail in one drawer, bills in another, and my new subscription to House Beautiful in the third. (Today I admit that the drawers were a little small for this purpose, but like any new infatuation, it seemed like a great idea at the time.)

Flash forward to now. Target and I meet up almost weekly for our special “girl time”. Like that trendy girlfriend she is, Target will helpfully point out special new jeans I might like to try on. Or maybe a new throw pillow for the living room couch. Target has her finger on the pulse of all that is new and hip and fun.

Additionally, my best friend Target is very thoughtful. She sends me things in the mail, like coupons or a $50 "Limited Edition" Buzz Lightyear two days before Christmas even though they were back-ordered. Yep, good ol’ Target comes through once again.

(Friendship, as you know, is a two-way street, and to that end, I have shared with Target too, namely a portion of each and every paycheck.)

The other great thing about Target: she doesn’t judge me. You’ll never once hear her say something like, “Don’t you already own three full sets of dishes?” or “Those purple suede boots don’t match anything in your closet.” No. Target is supportive.

Oh, sure, we’ve had our tiffs over the years, who hasn’t? Like the time I tried to return that navy blue jacket (tags attached) without a receipt. Target took one look at me and rolled her eyes (tough love). You know a receipt is required on all returns, I remember her saying with more than a bit of impatience and condescension in her tone. She ended up giving me a store credit knowing full well that I would use that store credit in about 15 seconds. But that’s the kind of thing that girlfriends go through—we laugh about it now.

The only thing (there’s always one thing, isn’t there?) that annoys me just the teeniest tiniest bit about my best friend Target is: she seems to have other friends besides me. I’m talking A LOT of other friends. She can be a Party Girl; I have to compete with everyone else to get her attention, and I’m just not 100% comfortable with that. We used to have so many good times together, just the two of us. It makes me sad. I wish Target would think back to what a loyal and devoted friend I have been over the years, and, well, maybe Target could make an effort to spend more quality time with just me. Say, open the store an hour early for me to just shop by myself—yes, that would be nice.

Maybe I’ll mention it next time I see Target, but for now, I have some coupons to go through.

MOV