It's the little things in life...

When people ask me if I miss L.A., I tell them no because I don't. After 17 years of not being able to tell whether it was November or May, it was time to leave. Usually they give me a weird look, like I'm some sort of sociopath with the inability to bond, and then they say. "Really? You don't miss anything about it?" Which is when I then say, "Okay, yes, there are three things I miss -- my washer and dryer and...Target."

People say that Disneyworld is the happiest place on earth, but they're wrong. Target is. I find the fact that you can buy a mop and , a gallon of milk, and an absolutely darling navy-blue-with-pleats Issac Mizhari dress in one single credit card transaction incredibly soothing.

I know there are Targets in New York, but there aren't any in Manhattan proper even though there's a giant neon Target sign in Times Square which makes absolutely no sense to me. There's one in Brooklyn, but too many people told me that a Target-lover like me would be sorely disappointed in it and therefore it would be better to steer clear of it. I had also heard there was one in the Bronx, and that it was decent -- much more decent than the Brooklyn one -- but there were rumors that once you got off the subway, you then had to take a bus, and even though I would do anything for an Issac Mizrahi dress, a two-tiered public transportation outing felt excessive.

But yesterday morning, after I had officially been self-diagnosed as brain dead after working on this Powells essay, I was overcome by an incredibly powerful PMS-induced Target craving. So I looked up the address of the Bronx Target
and then I went to hopstop.com , which is like Mapquest for subway directions, and I saw that not only was it a straight shot up the 1 train, but -- here's the best part -- there were no buses involved.

So despite the rain, and the impending cold that would later come over last night, I hauled my butt out there and it only took 20 minutes.

Sadly, my book was not yet on the shelves, but just being around the comforting smell of plastic soothed my PMS-addled soul.

But then the weirdest thing happened:

I couldn't find anything to buy.

Okay, yes, I bought Target brand garbage bags, and wrapping paper for my niece's birthday gift, and a three-pack of Eclipse wintermint gum, but that was it.

I'm telling you -- I never get out of Target for under $75.

But I did.

Then, when I got back on the train, that's what it looked like, which was reason alone to have made the trip. I mean, an
empty subway car? Come on.

And then I got home and waited for the cold to take over.