I swear on everything that I hold near and dear to my soul that the "Target" stores I visit must pump out some kind of gas through their ducts - akin to the oxygen forced into Vegas Casinos - that makes you exit their doors spending far more than you intended on entering.
One Hundred and Eighty One Dollars and Sixty Three cents more today - to be precise.
Clearly, even though my ego is well aware of our current economic crisis, my poor ID has not been made privy to this information yet.
Oh well.
I'm sure my new Christmas Tree decos will continue to sparkle long after my home has been repossessed.
L.
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