Not that this last-ditch effort to grab a gift is any big news around here.? In fact, an hour and a half lead time is something of a blessing–we’re usually talking minutes.? But it’s okay.? I’ve recently come to terms with the simple truth that procrastination is a valid life-choice in our home.?

So, I? fly? into the Target parking lot, and lo and behold, I have to slam on my brakes, because some dude in a Lexus is just sitting there picking his butt, without a care in the world.? Hello–doesn’t he know that I’m on an emergency gift-getting expedition?? Apparently not, because he’s just chilling, lolly gagging even, and refusing to turn left.? Which would be fine, except for the fact that we have NO STOP SIGN.? And I need a birthday present–NOW!? ? And unless the moron in the Lexus? suddenly whips up a dinosaur or soccer ball and tosses it into my window, I need to get into that store.? Fast.?

The other driver facing us in the straight lane does have a brain, along with a stop sign,? and is trying to wave him on.? But? Lexus man? is oblivious.? ? It really? shouldn’t be shocking,? since there’s obviously some kind of crappy-driver pre-requisite one must meet before being allowed to purchase a Lexus in the first place. I mean, when’s the last time you’ve seen? anyone drive a Lexus in? a style that didn’t resemble that of a 100 yr-old blind woman?

So I beep my horn.? Of course, Lexus man doesn’t deign to notice.? We’re still sitting there.? And, last time I checked, ? we still have NO STOP. I mean, come on—even my 4 yr-old can decipher what the letters S-T-O-P mean, especially? when found on a red octagonal-shaped street sign.? Which is completely beside the point, since there WAS NO STOP SIGN.

At any rate, finally the driver in the opposite lane gives up and goes.? Of course, at exactly the same time it dawns on Lexus man that, hey, there’s no? stop sign here, and he goes, too.? Then I have to wait through the inevitable almost-crash and its aftermath before finally turning left and getting to park.

So now, thanks to the German automotive industry, I have zero time to spare.? I fly out of my car and run into the store, grabbing a cart along the way.? I have absolutely no intention of stopping anywhere other than the toy aisle, and I even tell my cart, for good measure.? My cart, it seems, has other ideas.? Or else the listening skills of my 4 yr-old, because it starts steering me right towards the dollar bins, which the diabolical Target-minds place in the very front of the store.? Bastards.? I struggle with my cart,? gasping for air,? desperately? yanking it away from? the? dollar section? with all my might, but it’s got superhuman strength.? It? drags me, kicking and screaming, right to those lovely, lovely bins, the 4th of July section no less, and I have to concede defeat.? Man, those toxins from China must have some kind of magnetic superpowers.

Okay, so maybe the kicking and screaming part was all in my brain.? But its the thought that counts.

Somehow, I manage to get my kid to the party, right on time.? But, because of my renegade cart, not only does a little boy have a new science kit, but my dog Skye has these.? It’s kind of strange, though—who would’ve thought they’d sell hound dog ear warmers in California in the middle of July?