Especially if I go to Target. I can go to Target with the singular mission of buying a tube of toothpaste, and walk out of that trap with like 6 giant bags of stuff I had no idea I couldn’t live without.
And it’s not even like you really realize it’s happening. I think Target has something in their circulation system that puts you in some sort of shopping trance, and the only way to break free is to spend at least $50 there. Because I will sometimes get home, and Mr. Mock will ask me, “Why did you buy that?” and I will just look at him, blankly, because I’ll have NO IDEA. Except that while I was IN Target, it was an item that I was positive our family couldn’t function without. Like a pair of Paul Frank monkey pajama pants.
So yeah. I totally relate to this picture.