My superstar husband ate the last of the Trader Joe's Cheetos. Is it possible to forgive him when I've been looking forward to eating them all day? And we're a month away from getting back to Trader Joe's? I guess I'm going to have to start putting portions in little baggies, since our attitudes about food are so completely different. I'm a hoarder, waiting for the perfect moment to rapturously snack, while Chinua eats almost unconsciously. He's an absentminded eater, which I can't have, at least not while I'm pregnant, at least not with the Cheetos. These things are precious, now that we live in the trees, far away from everything.

I love it, actually. I'm afraid that I love it too much. I've been worried that I'm growing a bit agoraphobic, lately, which I think means that I'm scared of going out. Or maybe it means I'm afraid of open spaces, which I'm not. All I know is that the other day I was almost in a panic because I was doing errands and there were too many things, too many people, people looking at me, people everywhere. People looking at me with their beady eyes, buying buying BUYING.

I may not be totally well.

Walking into Bed Bath and Beyond almost did me in, though. I needed to buy a special pillow for my gimped neck, and unfortunately they only have the one I need at the psycho household store. Have you ever been in that store? Talk about insanity. They've taken vertical storage to a whole new limit. There are fifty million types of garlic presses, stacked to the ceiling. I almost started crying. And I'm not sure if it was because of the rampant consumerism or the fact that when I got married I didn't have a bridal registry. I'm still kicking myself for that. Is there ever another chance in life to wander through a store picking out whatever you want and people will just buy it for you? Maybe your parents were like that when you went to the toy store and you're all filled up on the "people buying you stuff" thing, so it doesn't seem that novel to you, but mine weren't. We were made to play with sticks and little pieces of string. (Just kidding.) Anyways, I hate Bed Bath and Beyond, but all I know is that if I had just registered there I would have the rice maker and nice oven mitts that I've always dreamed of. (That's a joke, I don't even have an oven.)

I'm laughing about this now, but it was really so bad at the time that I had to do deep breathing and positive self talk just to keep from scratching at my face while shopping. The other symptom I had was this intense sleepiness, which a couple of times had me laid out on the floor until I realized that people found this a little strange. I came home to the Land without buying half the things I needed. Sometimes it seems like there is just too much stuff in the world and buying stuff hurts and brings me to tears. Maybe I just had a touch of the flu.

All this to say that I feel like hiding in the trees sometimes. And so I love living at the Land, where everything is getting greener with moss by the day, even though the leaves may smother us as they fall. And I had the curious sensation of coming home, driving through the back roads of Oregon on our way home from Canada. It was as though I saw all the variety shops and junk sellers and burl wood carvers and felt a kinship. I mean, if you're going to sell clutter, you might as well make it eccentric, eh?