Confession

Yesterday I stole something from Target.  

I got out to my car, loaded Ben (who had just fallen asleep, it's important to note) and his carseat into the back, and noticed a file box at the bottom of my cart.  A file box that had been at the bottom of my cart for most of my shopping, including the part where I paid for everything else.  I knew immediately that I had technically stolen this file box, but I also knew that in my heart I hadn't really stolen it.  Therefore, I convinced myself that it was okay to leave (did I mention my kid had just fallen asleep in the carseat?) and pay for my stolen goods the next time I was going back into Target anyway.

My squeaky-clean husband disapproved of that plan.  When I told him the story, he insisted that I go back last night and make amends, which I did (after much grumbling).  All the way to Target, I mentally rehearsed the amusing way I would recount this story to the clerk (the manager?  the security guard?  I didn't know how this thing would go down).  So I was a little taken aback when I walked in with my shameful file box... and went right up to the check-out counter with it, just like everyone else was doing with their merchandise.  It was a total let-down.  I did tell the clerk my story, though, but he really didn't care.  Maybe next time I need to steal something bigger, just to make it worth my while.

Now it's your turn.  Anything you need to confess to the dozen or so people who read this blog?  (And everyone can participate now!  I changed my settings, so you don't have to have a Google account to comment.)