Writers Write

Target Lust

Once a week, I take myself on an Artist’s Date, an idea borrowed from Julia Cameron’s books. I can go anywhere I want, but I have to go alone. It’s been more than two weeks since I’ve been anywhere alone except the park and the supermarket. So today, I checked out the new Target.

The store was shiny and bright. I saw about a thousand things I’ve never seen before. I tried to imagine the heroine from my story, Annie, wearing a lime green t-shirt or a jacket with ruffled sleeves. I imagined myself in the black dress with the chiffon shirt. Where would I wear it? Maybe, I could put it on during the day and wear it around the house? I found solar powered LED christmas lights, just what I need for a back yard project I’ve dreamed up. 

The clerks were helpful. They weren’t destroyed yet by working in the same old place, day-in and day-out. They seemed happy to be in a new store where the fixtures weren’t broken and shelves were stocked for the first time. 

In this depressed economy, in my depressed budgetary state, I got a big case of Target Lust. It’s a condition where I can’t shake all the promises of material happiness out of my head, although I know better. I keep imagining what I might do with an empty red shopping cart. 

Time to get back to work on my book.

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