You Don't Have To Be Bruce Willis To Make A Decision

This afternoon I had lunch with two friends of mine.  Actually, one is my Actual Friend and the other is the Special Friend of the Actual Friend.  It’s not that I don’t like the Special Friend, it’s just that I can’t ever REALLY befriend people who ooze wishiwashiness. Though we (and by ‘we’ I mean humanity, collectively) are certainly entitled to moments of indecision, I’m a firm believer that those moments of indecision need to be few and far between.  It’s okay to straddle the fence for a brief period of time about whether or not you should go through with an upcoming wedding.  It is not, however, okay to straddle the fence about the upcoming wedding ALL THE WAY THROUGH the wedding and post-wedding and post-post-wedding.  I’m using this as an example, obviously.  The same applies to choosing a restaurant for lunch.  Don’t agonize over the Wendy’s/Burger King decision all the way through the drive to the Wendy’s/Burger King and through the Wendy’s/Burger King meal and then AFTER the Wendy’s/Burger King meal.  This makes you a douche and it’s best if you just not talk. 

We didn’t have any blatant displays of wishiwashiness at the lunch table today but I still know that it lingers not far under the surface which is why I have to refer to him as Her Special Friend and not My Actual Friend.  Obviously this is like the world’s longest discussion about who I ate lunch with today but I totally don’t care and you can drink my pureed toe jam.

My point is that today I totally had validation for the obscene amount of money I spent at Target last week.  As a side note, I swear that Target has a homing beacon that draws all females within a 30 mile radius inside its automatic glass doors to peruse its overpriced crap.  It’s a pull that someone with double X chromosomes just can’t resist, much like men and their random Y chromosome can’t resist the pull of the Gander Mountain superstore.  But it’s true; the local Target has received a strangely large chunk of my paycheck in the last 10 days. 

As for the validation, which I swear I’m getting to, it all started when I laid my sunglasses, phone and ID badge on the lunchroom table.  I ate my meal, an edible though not memorable frozen meal containing chicken and broccoli and what someone is trying desperately to market as ‘cheese.’  After we’re done eating I gather all my trash together and reach for my sunglasses ONLY TO HAVE A GINORMOUS CHUNK FALL OFF.  I don’t actually know what you call that part of the sunglasses and I’m too lazy and disinterested to google it.  But the WHOLE SIDE, the side that is necessary to keep them resting peacefully perched on your nose and ears just plum fell off. 

So now, as I sit at my desk an hour later, I’ve made peace with the excessive dollars that have made their way into the Target coffer.  Because Target provided me with new sunglasses even when I felt mildly guilty for purchasing new ones when I so obviously had a functional and unscratched and unbroken pair.  But The Fates have picked today to smile on me and now I just have to find a way of justifying the $17 I spent on eye-wrinkle cream.  Thankfully, I no longer have to justify the $25 I spent on wee little dog outfits that I repurposed as cat outfits.  Brittany was with me so I think I might be able to blame it on her, much like I blamed Monday’s ingestion of Paradise Pie on her.  But I returned the outfits the next day because I just cannot allow people into my house to later be greeted by my two Demonspawn who are sporting a tracksuit with ‘woof’ emblazoned on the back and pink ruffled dress with embroidered bunnies.