Later I grabbed my purse and drove to Target. And I stayed there.

I got a latte, wandered the aisles, and took my sweet time doing absolutely nothing productive.

For once, I wasn’t rushing around trying to meet someone else’s unrealistic expectations.

I texted him after a while: “Still at the store. Traffic’s wild .”

As I came home late the chaos was glorious.

Half-cleaned rooms, screaming kids, a burnt frozen pizza on the table, and my frazzled husband desperately trying to make store-bought cheesecake look fancy.

His face when he saw me? Priceless. “Where have you been?” he gasped.

I poured a glass of wine, and said sweetly, “You told me to go to the store. So I went.”