I don't think of myself as a misanthrope.  Hell, I've seen the Moliere play, and I'm not that angry and irritated at the human race.  I love people and am willing to be with people pretty much all the time.  Sure, they piss me off on a regular basis, but I am always happy to give them another go.  People crack me up.  We are all so ridiculous and bizarre and strange.  We say and do the most amazing and funny things, and I want to be there to catch them.

But I do not like this:  driving into a crowded parking lot, just barely finding a space, and then looking out across the thronging throng of cars and people, understanding that I have to get out.  Mix it up with all of them.  Stand in line and buy a half pound of shrimp with them all.  Push, move, stand in line some more.

I don't want to do it.  And then, for god's sake, don't make me go into Long's and Trader Joe's, too.  For the love of Mike or anyone else, could you let me stay in the car?  But could you pick up some hair conditioner and tampons while you are there?

Maybe I have a very specific form of agoraphobia, the kind that strikes at Macy's, Whole Foods, Bed, Bath, and Beyond, strip malls, 4th Street in Berkeley.  I have to gird my loins, force myself out, put on my invisible battle armor and go.  Into the stores I forge, carrying patience and amnesia.  I don't want to wait for anything, but I'm going to have to, so I want to forget it.

Berkeley Bowl sends me into catatonia.  If I never go there again, I will be a happy woman.

The problem is, I want the things I need from those stores.  I want the new sweater and the incredibly fresh produce and the glasses I can only find at Sur La Table.  Somehow, in both of my long term relationships, I've found men who actually like to go into places like Costco and Home Depot and Sears.  If I put things on the list, things magically appear. 

Sometimes I did and do find myself having to go into the stores as well, but I try to do my "share" of the shopping at times when the throng is a thong instead of big girl panties.  One-thirty pm, whole Foods Oakland.  20 parking spaces available on the lower lot.  Perfection.  Trader Joe's, Monday at 2 pm.  I can park right in front of the store.  Ideal.

Online shopping cures my holiday list anxiety, and I have been buying already, knowing that between now and the end of December, I have four birthdays and two major religious holidays to deal with, one of which goes on for a number of days and involves more presents.

Shopping is a euphemism.  I've been clicking.  And imputing credit card numbers.  And clicking some more.

I have my consumer capitalist hat on, even though I need to take it out and prepare for the apocalypse.  But I'm not ready to stop yet, despite what my son tells me.  I want to buy things for people.  And I want to  enjoy living, and I want to enjoy people, just not in parking lots and packed stores.  Instead, I want them all around my table eating the food I've bought at convenient times, and opening presents I've purchased online.

Jessica