A Target Tale

Remember me saying that I would have to restrain myself from after-Christmas shopping because of our outrageous gas bill?

Well, Rhett was totally not surprised by the bill and even shrugged his shoulders and he totally didn't care if I went after-Christmas shopping as long as I quit buying candy. So . . . There went any self-restraint I had.

Now, I did really try to not get more Christmas junk 'cause I have way too much of it already and am absolutely sick of trying to dig out mountains of Christmas stuff to put out each year. But when Target gets to 90% off, how can I not buy it? If you are someone who can pass on this kind of stuff, please tell me--How do you NOT buy it? There is just something about Target's after-Christmas sale that gets me. It's like my crac*-roc* or something. It calls my name. It tempts me. I'm just lured to the store. I cannot resist the urge!!!!! I guess part of it all the good stuff you can get that is labeled Christmas but it can be used anytime that you can get such good deal on. Like these awesome storage totes I got at 75% that are square and covered in a silky burgundy material with a damask print. I have seriously been looking for something like that to put on top of our armoire for months. So, for some of it, I didn't do too bad.

Ummmm . . . but some of what I bought was total junk. Do I really need Christmas slipper socks when the podiatrist says I'm not allowed to walk without shoes? Um . . . do I really need red tights with snowflakes on them? Or the red, green, and white argyle knee high socks with the fur-trimmed tops? I don't think so.

And, ya'll, I think God was even trying to stop me on my first trip. (Uh, yeah, I decline to say how many times I've been to Target in the past 5 days.) I had BFG with me and, ya'll, my IBS (irritable bowel syndrome) kicked in and I was hurting so bad. The first trip to the bathroom wasn't so bad. But once your IBS starts, it starts if ya know what I mean. So, by the time I needed a second trip to the bathroom, we had just made it to the far back corner of the store where the Christmas stuff is. I had to GO! I seriously thought I wasn't going to make it. I'm screaming at BFG the whole way trying to run with a cart while squinching. People are glaring at me for the stuff I'm saying to BFG. We ditched our cart and I had her tight by the upper arm trying to guide her to the bathroom. She was drinking an icee. I am speaking in a very ugly tone through clenched teeth "Come on! Mama's about to po*p on herself! We've got to go now!" Right as we get to the bathroom, she explains she was trying to drink her icee. And I'm whipping the door open as I scream, "You coulda stopped drinking your icee for two minutes and WALKED!" and a woman is walking out right at that moment and thought I was the world's worst mother. And I don't even want to know what the faces of the people in the bathroom looked like when we get in the stall and BFG states she has to go pe*-pe*. I was furious! I was seriously seconds from having an accident on myself. I screamed, "Are you kidding me? You really have to go. Well, you're just gonna hafta wait!" Of course, my mom-guilt kicked in and my cramps let up a little bit so I actually let her go first 'cause I knew I'd be awhile. Uh, she didn't have to go. Surprise, surprise! But she did do a good job of entertaining everyone by singing songs very loudly for 20 minutes while I did my business.

We left after that. I decided there was nothing in Target worth po*ping on myself for.

Mama Said