Dear Hobby Lobby: A Love Letter

Making me stabby in the good way.

Dear Hobby Lobby,

I'm not sure what you're using to scent your entryway (really, I don't--I was practically crawling on the floor looking for the source), but it makes me happy. It's like apples and pumpkin pie and Fall and angel farts all mixed together and magically piped in near the front door.

And while I think July is wee bit early for Christmas displays, I'm glad they're there. You see, most days I think I want to skip decorating this year. I love decorating, but it's just one more thing I'll have to do on my own. But when I walk through your forest of plastic trees and bask in the glow of mini light strands while being watched over by life sized, light up Nativity lawn figures, I suddenly want to find my inner Griswold and go all out.

I love you, dear Hobby Lobby, because even if I walk in feeling a little stabby, it takes no time at all to be lulled into a trance by all the pretty paper and fabric and craft supplies. Instead of thinking about cutting people, I find myself thinking about cutting patterns. Instead of imagining roundhouse kicks to the head, I'm mentally building the most glorious doll house ever created.

And I know that I've occasionally cheated on you with your friends Michael and Jo Ann, but only when you weren't around. You know how it is--if you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with.

So, thank you, Hobby Lobby, for being there for me when I need you. You're a true friend. You know exactly how to lift me up.

Sincerely,
Brandi

P.S. Could you maybe stop taking so much of my money? It's becoming a problem. Thanks.