At Target, Where Everything is Possible
Notes on Love and Laundry
When I arrive in the Target parking lot, I'm a disorganized woman of a certain age who needs laundry detergent because my family is smelling sweatshirts picked up from the floor to see if they can be worn again and we have no clean socks.
But when I step inside the store, something magical happens. Target somehow wipes my memory, causing me to forget who I really am.
When I enter Target, I see the person I could become.
Target begins by leading me gently away from prosaic things like toilet paper, laundry detergent, and toothpaste. Target knows that I may look like a tired, suburban mother of three...but with Target's help, I could be so much more.
Target leads me into the seasonal department at the back of the store, which is filled with garden trowels, picnic baskets, patio furniture, and potting soil.
I gaze down at cute little terra cotta pots while Target whispers in my ear. "Buy these things, and you will become a gardener."
I remind Target that I have killed every house plant I've ever owned, even succulents. Target smiles. "This time it will be different."
I put a garden trowel in my cart.
Now Target leads me further inside, to the Joanna Gaines housewares section. I stand dazed before a display of retro glass milk bottles in a wire basket.
"Buy them," Target whispers. "Buy them and you will cavort through your kitchen, barefoot and smiling in a long white dress, and not in a creepy, polygamist cult kind of way, but in a modern, self-actualized, way. Your husband will start calling you 'Fruition.' Your children will develop perfect table manners and start using the word ma'am. Your lustrous chestnut hair will tumble down your back as you hold a $57 wooden bowl filled with freshly baked bread while gazing out the window of a modern farmhouse in Waco, Texas."
"You mean if I buy these $43 fake glass milk bottles, I'll turn into Joanna Gaines?"
"Yes," Target whispers. "Yes, you will."
I put them in my cart.
Target takes me by the hand and leads me into the clothing department. I gaze at a knit hat, bell bottom jeans, and floaty dresses.
"Buy these," Target whispers. "Embrace Boho style."
"But Target, I don't even know what Boho means." I shake my head sadly. "I'm sorry, I don't think I'm a Boho person."
Target smiles. "But you could be...if you buy these hoop earrings and this floral print dress and this knit hat that looks like a macramé plant hanger and wear it on your head to carpool. The other moms will look at you and say, "There's Christine again. She's not middle aged and tired. She's on trend."
I put the clothing in my cart.
Target takes my hand again and leads me into the storage and organization aisle.
I finally put my foot down. "Listen, Target. We've been here before. I bought the spice organizer, and the sock drawer organizer, and all those little plastic bins, and I'm still not organized."
Target gives me a gentle smile. "My poor child. Of course you're not organized. You didn't get the right kind of bins last time. But if you buy these folding cloth bins, instead of those cheap plastic ones, everything will be different."
I'm still skeptical. "Are you sure, Target? Cause you said the same thing last January after I re-read that Marie Kondo book."
"I'm positive," Target says with a smooth smile. "And if you buy this clear plastic, spinning, Lazy Susan-condiment-caddy, you'll never lose anything in the back of your pantry again."
I put it in my cart, which is now full. I look at my watch, suddenly alarmed at the time.
"Look Target, I need to go. I have to get to school for pick up."
"Wait," Target says, pulling me toward the front of the store. "You can't leave without checking the dollar bins."
And sure enough, in the dollar bins I find these adorable little bird nest napkin rings for a dollar each. "You need these," Target whispers.
"Seriously Target. " I put my hand on my hips. "What possible use could I have for bird nest napkin rings?"
"You need them for all the spring tea parties you're going to host."
I shake my head in disbelief. Target has finally gone too far. "That's crazy. I've never hosted a tea party in my life. I'm not British. This isn't Downtown Abbey. And spring is insanely busy. It's the end of the school year. We all have graduations and confirmations and first communions and plays and recitals and track and lacrosse and volleyball and crew regattas. I don't have time for tea parties. No one I know has time for tea parties."
"Ah, but if you buy these napkin rings, life will magically slow down. You'll become the kind of person who hosts intimate weekly gatherings with small groups of friends, where you'll laugh together in an authentic way and have meaningful discussions about life. You'll host these tea parties in your new back yard filled with spring flowers and a pergola because you are now a gardener who owns a trowel. You'll wear your Boho dress and answer the door smiling, while carrying your $57 wooden bread bowl, just like Joanna Gaines."
This sounds far fetched, even for Target.
"Are you sure?" I ask warily.
"Have I ever lied to you before?"
I feel uneasy as I make my way to the checkout counter. The clerk rings me up and I load my items into the car.
When I get home I put away the napkin rings and the Boho dress and the fake retro milk bottles and the storage bins. I begin to sort laundry. Then I realize it.
I forgot to buy detergent.
Book News
But first, am I the only person who has this experience at Target? If this has ever happened to you, please hit reply and tell me I'm not the only one.
I do have one really cool, book-related thing to report however, and it did not happen at Target.
My publisher sent me two boxes of ARCs or Advance Reader Copies of my book.
Did I cry when I opened the box and held my physical book in my hands for the first time? Yes. Yes. I did. Sobbed is more like it. I think I alarmed both the dog and my husband.
I took yet another book picture yesterday, because I happened to be all dressed up with someplace fun to go, wearing the pearls I clutch when people tell me they don't like Jane Austen or have never visited North Dakota. I now carry the book around in my purse and show it to Uber drivers. They're very kind, and they always promise to order it. Probably to make me stop talking.
Which I will do now.
Thank you to everyone who has pre-ordered Friends with Secrets, including the Uber drivers, and thank you so much for reading Love and Laundry. Until next time, stay out of trouble on your next Target run :-)
Sincerely,
Christine
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