Clearance section, Why hast thou forsaken me?

(Disclaimer: Please read in the style of hilarious desperation and not jaded consumer. I usually RSVP “No” to the Bitter Ball)

Little things make me happy. No frost on my windshield, flannel shirts, painted nails…sales racks. But not any more. Target, you have ruined my love for discounted goods. (Sister, my bad, but you’ve heard this already. But you know—it needs to be documented.) I guess I should preface this with, I jump the gun when it comes to errands. With the recent move, I’ll discover-one by one-things I need or have forgotten, and instead of making a list and one big trip, I go as they pop into my head. Being settled in is a big thing with me. When I lived in the dorms, I didn’t sleep the first night until my room was how I wanted it; my apartments never saw boxes for long and when I moved back home, my room looked lived in the day I got back. So, yeah—I didn’t want to wait until the next day to get connector cables for my DVD player, surge protector or over-the-door towel rack. Thus the late night trip to Target commenced.

Fast-forward five minutes and I’ve found everything I need and as I’m leaving the electronics section I notice the discounted Christmas aisle…I love red tags so I’m all about it. BUT…as I’m giving the section a look-see I wonder, “Who the hell would buy these Christmas rejects?” The once bright red sugar cookies have turned the color of rust, poor chocolate Santas sport melted faces and everything else is either dented or covered in glitter. I walk away, somewhat saddened.

Time to check out and get back home. Of course it’s 20 minutes til closing so there are only two lines open, and guess which one I pick? My my my. This woman should have been put down. Her cart was loaded to the brim with candy canes. Candy canes. The throw-away Christmas tradition. “Hey look. I’m not just giving you a card. There’s a candy cane attached. You can throw it away as soon as I turn to leave. Or save it in your purse for three months until you’re in desperate need for a mint. You’re welcome.” Was she intending on saving these until next year? Not only will it be a candy cane…It will be a chewy candy cane. With a slight taste of nickels. Oy vey. On top of the candy cane mountain we have the 23 rolls of blue, sparkled ornament wrapping paper that you can’t imagine next Christmas without. Dear Lord Baby Jesus help me. And mugs! The mugs. Did you know that Target employees are required to wrap breakable items? I do. Because I saw her do it to 14 ceramic reindeer mugs. Once again, a Christmas token that no one will ever want.

This whole time I am texting Sister furiously. Judging this horrid woman with her pointy red lips, ribbed turtleneck and ankle boots. And then we reached a new level of exasperation. I’ve never thought poorly of the dollar section until this woman entered my life. If it was a dollar and heart-shaped, this lady was buying it. Did you really need those pink spoons, heart-shaped measuring cups and cupid ice cube trays? It looked like My Little Pony’s kitchen. And then came the inevitable, “Am I stupid for buying all this? I mean…I like it, but should I have gotten all this wrapping paper?” The answer, of course, is yes, you are indeed a ra-tard. But if I have to watch the cashier cancel this monstrosity of a purchase, I’ll know that this is Armageddon and the world is in fact coming to an end. So I bit my tongue, looked down at my shoes and paced my breathing until it was my turn to leave, one bag in hand, knowing with full certainty that no one will ever think these thoughts about me…