I love Target.

I could be a spokesperson for that company. And I should make a commission. I just got back and had to brag to my dh about my "fabuless" purchases of 50% off eyeshadow, flashlights, and bungee cords. What's the thrill here? Why the high? Seriously, I come home from shopping and feel so useful, like I've accomplished something. Probably because I have. I can have my need to accomplish something gratified by purchasing 32 bars of soap (bulk pack-zest energize scent-smells so clean). I feel purposeful and useful because I have solved a need for my home. Instant gratification. And I need this instant gratification of accomplishment because that sense of accomplishment is not so instant when I am maintaining the status quo on the home front. At home, I work in layers. My responsibilities stack on top of each other, and I must do layer 1 in order to even attempt layer 2 and so on. I am lucky to reach layer #1 (dishes and laundry) on any given day. Layers 2, 3, & 4 (mopping, dusting, showering, shampooing carpets, cleaning windows, lunch, the laundry list goes on, but I shall spare you) lay dormant, aching for acknowledgement and attention. No wonder women like to shop so much. It satisfies the inate desire of being useful, the "look what I did" urge, and satisfies it quickly. Hence, the rise of the shopping gene. I was born that way. I, therefore, find no shame in shopping, even at the risk of offending the men we love and serve. I have a proud heritage and image to maintain. I shall not wax lackadaisical. I will hold my head high, though my arms drag with bags. My sense of accomplishment rests in a bottle of Mountain Rain Purex. Ahh, smell the satisfaction.