Stuff by the grocery store register is like a psychological booby-trap for adults? I walked in for eggs, milk, and chicken broth, and suddenly I’m standing there holding a rubber chicken, a kombucha-flavored energy drink that promises “mental clarity,” and three packs of gum, because apparently I believe my future breath deserves the best.
How about a glow-in-the-dark stress ball and a novelty lighter with a Steelers logo? I say yes! Treat yourself, and call it what it really is:
Mindful self-indulgence.
A tiny emotional support purchase.
Wreckless adoption of useless happiness