Not on Target (aka Bump 'N Grind)

In the spirit of confessions below, I figured it couldn't hurt to share this one. It may not make you laugh quite like it did for me, but here's a shot.

I had the most embarrassing cart today in Target.

Running errands after work, I grabbed a shopping cart to carry what I knew would be two large items - toilet paper and paper towels. As a single woman, I don't go through these as fast as most families, but I still prefer to buy in bulk, what with the cost savings and all.

I start towards the paper goods section, and realize that my cart has an attitude.

A bad attitude.

It didn't want to go left. It didn't like going right. It had no intention of going straight.

And it complained, loudly, the entire time.

The loudest, squeakiest, strangest noises emitted from this plastic monster. I should have turned right around and put it back in the rack with the rest of 'em.

But, no, I'm just stubborn enough to think I'm going to make it stop. Coerce it into silence. Have my way with it.

Yeah...no.

I proceed to stubbornly (who's stubborn now?!) manipulate, loudly, this ridiculous excuse for a shopping cart all the way around my two-story Target store.

Oh, it gets worse.

Since it was right at 6 pm (I had worked from home today, getting a jump-start on my errands), the store wasn't crowded yet. Translate that to mean - it was quiet.

I maneuvered, loudly, the long distance from paper goods, through shoes (a girl's gotta look!), past accessories (looked the other way) to the cart escalator. I hoped that the enormous piece of mechanic marvel would teach the little cart a thing or two about being well-behaved.

Yeah...no.

I grab the cart, sheepishly, and careen, loudly, toward the grocery aisle.

People were staring. Really. I felt like I had to apologize. Out loud.

I kept uttering, "I know! It's so loud." And, "I'm sorry, just heading this way with my obnoxious cart!" and "It sounds like it is going to explode, doesn't it?" to several passerby. They just stared. At me, and at the offending cart.

It gets worse.

So, on Level 1, I had puttered and noisily bumped past the first floor team meeting. All seven red-golf-shirt khaki-pants-wearing employees turned, slowly, one by one, to identify the source of the noise.

That would be me. And my ride.

When I'd escaped to Level 2, and had dodged mommies and children (who were scared, hiding behind mommy's legs), I made it to the grocery aisle, my final destination, and pulled the plastic and metal hunk-of-junk to a stop.

A quiet stop.

Not before the entire gang of men's and electronics employees had their stare at me. Seriously, those red and khaki people are so judgy.

And, just to the left of the milk case, a woman had the audacity to say to me, "Why didn't you just get a new cart?"

I wanted to, really. I did!

But after you've started in one direction in Target, it is just a huge mistake to turn around. If you do, you'll end up spending $200 on stuff you just don't need but really had to have.

And if I didn't have a cart, I'd have to be physically reminded of the fact that I'm living alone, with no one to help me carry the big stuff, as I stumble and tumble from the toilet paper right over to the feminine aisle. At least I'm not buying cat food.

How do you explain that to a total stranger?

I'd rather have a cart I can't control.