Target Run

There are few feelings better than the feeling of an early-morning Target run. I’m currently sitting in my car in the Target parking lot; the clock on my dashboard reads 7:54. Target doesn’t open until 8, but that’s ok; actually, that’s wonderful. I have six minutes to drink my coffee in peace, check Facebook for the first time in two weeks, and listen to the radio, which is currently playing some catchy Maroon 5 song. All signs of “Baby Shark” disappeared at daycare drop off 20 minutes earlier.

In six minutes, I’ll enter a clean and organized store, unbothered by a tired toddler who doesn’t want to sit in the cart and instead demands to push it.

In six minutes, I’ll be greeted with wide, near-empty aisles. I’ll have my choice of tomatoes (it’s BLT night at home, and what’s a BLT without the T?), I’ll grab swim diapers in record time, and I may even have an opportunity to peruse the Dollar Section without worrying that my daughter will grab $500 worth of crap she insists she absolutely cannot survive without.

An early-morning Target run: 25 minutes of carefree joy, where budgets are thrown out the window, work emails cease to exist, and I become instant besties with the brown-haired lady in grey slacks checking out next to me. Besties by way of a head nod. Even without exchanging words I know that her day will be similar to mine: work, followed by a nighttime routine with a toddler. Well, maybe not a toddler, but the diapers in her cart indicate she has a small child at home, too. She glances over and smiles, knowing that as we scan our last items in the self-checkout line, our quiet, calm, peaceful morning will soon turn into nine productive hours filled with phone calls, GotoMeetings , and spreadsheet deadlines.

We nod and smile, knowing that our 25 minutes of peace may be coming to an end for now…at least until later this week, when we just so happen to run out of milk.