Updated: Sep 14, 2018
It’s not you… it’s me. It’s always been me. We’ve had this crazy on-again, off-again love affair for far too long. It’s just not healthy. I come to you, heart on sleeve, hoping for tampons; yet all you give me is an ottoman and a coffee maker. How am I supposed to react to that? Just what are you expecting of me? Of my family? If my husband ever found out the true nature of our relationship… I just don’t know what would happen. It’s so hard to quit you, though. I mean, how do you quit the one thing in your life that has almost every single thing you could possible want? Ending things with you is harder than taking Candy Crush off my phone. Alas, it must be done. I feel saddest for my kids (that’s not true, I don’t know why I said that, for emphasis, I guess, but I feel saddest for me), how do I break the news to them? Am I supposed to just say, “Hey, Target is dead to us now” and hope they’re on board? I can hear their uncontrollable seizure-cries now- “WHAT ABOUT THE DOLLAR SECTION? WHERE ARE WE SUPPOSED TO GO FOR USELESS DOLLAR STUFF? THE DOLLAR STORE? NOOOOOOOO!!!!” And I’ll have to remind them that nothing they want in the dollar section is actually a dollar- it’s always five dollars. Sometimes three- on a good day.
Listen, and don’t let anyone tell you different than this: I will always love you. Your survival will continue, I assure you. It may not seem like it right now, but… you’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine.
Oh wait, I just got a notification from you… ummmm, you’re gonna start selling your own wine at $5 a pop? You could have mentioned this earlier. Clearly it changes everything. See you in an hour.