Feeding the HomeGoods addiction

Feeding the HomeGoods addiction

Your Money

Feeding the HomeGoods addiction

It’s Friday night. The takeout pizza has been inhaled, and the kids have disappeared into the basement to binge-watch Netflix. You gaze across your destruction of a home and say to your spouse, “I’m headed out for snacks. Do you need anything?”

He knows where you’re going.

He knows where you’re going. You know where you’re going. You know he knows where you’re going. Saying it only adds to the sting.

As you pull your white minivan into a parking-lot sea of minivans, you wince ever so slightly at the glowing red sign, knowing that while you need the fix, it’s not good for you. But at the end of a long week, only one thing will stop the pain: HomeGoods.

My happy place is a silent club

You turn your eyes swiftly away from the woman walking out, her bags bulging. She knows the rules: No staring at the walk of shame. She didn’t need that $39.99 Moroccan lamp any more than you need a $4.99 seashell soap dish. Guilt doesn’t require chit-chat; HomeGoods is a silent club.

Must … go … shopping …

As the doors slide open, you fondly remember your first hit. Sumi wanted your opinion on her new settee pillows. Were they a “pop of color” or more of a “slap-in-the-face” purple? Her not-to-be-touched pillows sat so perfectly upright on her not-for-sitting couch, and your addiction began.

You made your first visit where the love of a $14.99 vase caused you to redecorate the entire first floor of your home. The vase cost you $8,000, but there was no turning back. You knew too much.

But the room needs a focal point!

You breathe in a smell that can only be created when wooden desk accessories are stacked next to crystal turtle paperweights, and feel a slight relief the kids aren’t with you. Your cheeks burn red every time they say “this room has no focal point” or “our bookshelves need an antiqued bronze owl.” You imagine their futures, lying bankrupt in an alley, surrounded by fake plants and mixy-matchy dining room chairs. As you pass endless arrangements of china, you pray you’ll get through the night with only a small purchase; maybe a $12.99 table runner or $3.99 tea towels for your mother-in-law. Grandmothers have created an entire seasonal tea towel market. Who could resist their charm?

The perfect escape on a Friday night

In a moment of honesty, you call your spouse while admiring $79.99 comforters. Next week, these gorgeous linens all will be gone! In his best monotone voice, he replies, “Your home decorating budget is at zero dollars and zero cents.” Defeated, you head toward the bath section to buy a bottle of sandalwood and sage lotion.

HomeGoods carries an eclectic mix of furnishings.

As you weave through the checkout, you consider turning back for a mirrored serving tray upon which you will serve your spouse Himalayan chocolate-covered raspberries with sea salt, distracting him from… yet another mirrored serving tray.

Your family may never understand, but HomeGoods understands. HomeGoods knows pop-up dinner parties happen without warning, and holidays won’t come without themed pitchers that match the tablecloths. Thank you for understanding my guests need affordable velvet benches upon which only they may sit.

But mostly, thank you HomeGoods for a Friday night escape from the pizza-stained reality of my abundant family life.

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