Torn between Two Targets

One of the advantages of where we now reside is that we live in between two Targets.  No, not as in between the Pentagon and White House if the Russkies send the big one over, but between two branches of a popular chain of discount stores.  There is, however, a world of difference between them.  Toward the south (the less fashionable direction) the store is closer and easier to get to.  The problem is that inside it looks like a Moscow department store under Brezhnev.  Lots of empty shelves, sloppy organization, frequently out of things, generally unkempt.  Now, you might think to blame this on the epidemic, but in fact the store was like that long before anyone heard of Covid.  To the north (the more fashionable direction) the store is further away and the traffic can be pretty bad, having to go though the middle of Old Town Alexandria to get there.  Its shelves are always stocked to overflowing, all is in order, what you want is usually there, and the checkout lines are efficient.  This is also the store where Michelle O. used to go every now and then.  But those were the good old days; now one has to go all the way to the Costco in Arlington to bump into someone famous.  (Hillary ran into Justice Sotomayor there one Saturday; no doubt attracted by the coupons for family-size barrels of Cheese Dinkles.)  So I'm torn.  I hate the frustration of the southern store, but don't savor fighting the traffic to get to the better one in the north.  They're building a Metro station by the northern one even as we speak; maybe that will settle things.  File under first-world problems yet again.  Toodles.