It was at Target, in my car. I'm not proud. But as I pulled in and put the car in park, the sun peeked through the window and hit my jeggings and it just felt so right. The soft sounds of Paula Abdul's Opposites Attract serenaded me through the iPod. MC Skat Cat lulled me to the dark side. The air conditioner blew softly on my cheeks.
Five minutes, I thought. Just five minutes. And so I drifted, until the sounds of a jangling shopping cart slamming into the metal corral woke me.
This is a problem. This is how people get murdered. I've seen Law & Order.
Is this the final step in my undoing? Is my shame spiral imminent? Will I slip a whole stolen salmon into my tattered Santa suit come Christmas?
I'm not saying I'm the busiest person in the whole world. Lord knows y'all people with children would come after me with the flaming torches demanding my head in a tasty to-go container. But, as we've discussed, finding time for book writing, exercise, socializing, home cleaning and Intervention episodes on top of working full time is hard. The other day, I tried to combine my workout with my dog responsibilities. The run with Stuart was fine until his mushy poop bag banged into my leg and sullied my Adidas running shorts and skin in ways that are JUST NOT HOLY.
Still. Sleeping at Target is not acceptable. That's the stuff of Dateline NBC lore. My 1 a.m. editing and writing sessions might have to stop.
Maybe. Then again, I sleep at Target. My judgment is clearly unsound.