Imaginary Journey to Target (based on reality)

Shower, $h;+, and Shave.
Find clothes too nice for Walmart.
Get in my car, which sadly is the same cherry red as the shirts new employees are typically seen in.
Left out of the driveway, then right then left, and then another left to leave my mangled street.
Stop.  Hammer time.
Car clock is accurate now that DST is back in season.
Cross the street like a 2500 pound cherry red chicken.
Remember the one about the cow stapled to the chicken, immediately wish I hadn’t.
Get off Kelly.  The street, perv.
Pass Log Cabin Road, home to 100% vinyl siding.
Turn right onto a road whose name changes every mile or so, whose name at the next intersection is identical to another running parallel about a mile west.
Left turn onto another name-changer.
You know, the piddly byways that are named by what piddly towns you’re in or between.
This one has four lanes, so I really step on the gas to get to the 45mph speed limit, then more or less coast the next 50 feet to the entrance to the Target plaza.
Towards the hardware mega-super-need-a-map store but break left at the ass end off the parking lot to go past the streetside joints.
Sleepy’s.  Lame.
Chik-Fil-A, where you can’t have two of the same food item on the same receipt, because platters are only between a sandwich and a side.
Random bank.
Ah, Target parking.  I always park in the same area because it is close but never a fight for a space. 
Usually near the cart return.
I grab any stray carts left out in the open by lazy people, women with newborns who haven’t figured out to park next to the cart return if they don’t want to leave their baby (understandable desire), or both.
Let’s not pretend that there aren’t any lazy-ass parents shopping at Target, not all of them go to Walmart.
Drop the load in the cart area, keep one for myself if buying food.
Pharmacy – fairly regular stop for me, though now they text me when it’s time for refills, which means now only two or three visits each month.
Food?  Yes, please.
Always a combination of ready to eat, precooked frozen, microwaveable mac and cheese, and some form of beverage with little or no sugar and maximum or a bit more caffeine.
I live alone, so everything must either be single-serving or have the ability to “re-seal”.
Roll on back to the front with my caddy, pick a line, and wait.  Or not.  Depends on the timing.
I think my food choices seem a tad juvenile, but I really don’t care much for leftovers or trying to fit Pyrex into the damn washer, so it’s never ingredients except for sandwich parts.
5% off with my red card, yay!
Leave the cart inside and carry all the bags to my car, only to find that in the last 15 minutes the lazy asshole fairy has been by to randomly place three or more carts near/next to/in contact with my car.
Good thing it is the same color as the carts.
Fill my trunk.  Well, about 10% of it.  I shop once a week and have a big trunk.
Gather the new strays, and if the weather is decent I’ll take them up to the store.
It’s become sort of a mission to make lazy people feel that much more lazy by going above and beyond my duty as a consumer.
Drive back past the bank, the chicken joint that serves the right wingers the left wings only, because you can’t put two same-chicken wings in the same bucket or Jesus will make your fries cold.
Past Sleepy’s.
There’s the Applebee’s that you don’t notice on the way in.
Not sure what the appeal is in paying 5x the price just so someone can bring the beer to me and then wash glasses and wipe the bar because kids don’t have any non-electronic communication skills anymore.
I suppose the married guys in there are willing to pay a premium to drink beer without the running commentary of what they have failed to accomplish around the house, though it seems simpler to just take out the trash, keep the socks off the floor, and run the dishwasher when it’s full.
Right, left onto 4 lanes good, pass the road I used earlier and take the right-turn-only back way.  Left to avoid the big pile of rocks and dirt, past the day care whose fire alarm rings more than my phone, left to get on Kelly (the street, perv), right onto my mangled street, right, left, then a bit left past my driveway on the right so I can back in.
Carry the stuff in.  Frozen in the freezer, meat, cheese, and beverage in the fridge.  Bread wherever it lands.  Ready-to-eat snacks and any pasta-like uncooked items in the pantry.  Empty bags in the bag collection, good for kitty litter and taking up space.
Find a hairball, pick it up, and all day you’ll have good… no, just pick the damn thing up with a paper towel.
And that is a trip to Target.
And you thought there was nothing to it.


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