I spend a lot of time alone when i'm depressed, which is most of the year. I get Sring hypomania -- beautiful, euphoric high mood. Unfortunately i get really social and spend recklessly and mistake the interactions i have with salespeople for social relations. These people are selling me stuff. They are not my friends. Sometimes [after i've crashed] i even feel exploited by them, like the time i kept buying book after book in a bookstore -- none of which i read. I don't like to read anymore. I just keep remembering the cashier laughing her head off every time i approached the cash register with another book. Couldn't she tell there was something wrong with me? I guess it is her role to sell and she doesn't have to spare a thought for how her 'good customer' may be unwell... I sure hope i get another religious hypomania next Spring or some other non-shopping, non-renovation hypomania, something benign.