BLEEDING OUT . . .

Every major purchase I make, I experience the same sensation: "I WILL REGRET THIS PURCHASE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE."

When I was researching and buying Bob last summer, I went through this for TWO MONTHS, until C finally barked "HIT SUBMIT! HIT SUBMIT! HIT SUBMIT!" at me over the phone as I sat poised over the mouse, staring at the order screen at apple.com.

When I was buying airplane tickets for my annual trip to L.A., I went through this for ONE MONTH, utterly convinced that the moment I clicked on "PURCHASE," the cost of the ticket would drop by $200.

When I was handing over the cash for my new bed, with my mom's eagle eye beside me making sure I was counting accurately, I went through this, absolutely sure that the moment the store had my money, they would close up shop and flee the country, leaving me with no bed whatsoever. Or dumping me with a faux bed, like made out of plywood or something.

When I was signing the papers for my condo, I went through this, wondering if I would hate my new place, if I would ever feel at home there, if I really wanted to move out and away from my parents (albeit a mere three miles away). I kept psyching myself out, telling myself that my first night there, the roof would cave in and the bathroom would be infested with waterbugs the size of a baby elephant.

When I was paying for my living room set, I went through this, questioning whether I was getting a good deal for the price, whether the furniture would last longer than a month, whether the springs in the sofa would withstand my bony little butt (not so bony right now, but we're working on that), whether some unsuspecting guest would put his feet on the coffee table and shatter the glass insert.

And now ... I'm on a quest for the perfect, small, light-weight, durable, inexpensive, foldable treadmill. So many issues to grapple with: I'm small, but I have a heavy tread when I run, so the machine can't wobble and shake or it will freak me out and I won't use it. It can't be too loud because I live on the top floor of a multi-story building after all, and old-style cement construction is still no match for an annoying humming sensation. It can't break because I won't know how to fix it, I assume. It has to be foldable AND movable -- what's the point if it folds up and stands there in the middle of the living room like a sculpture? It needs to come with white-glove delivery because ain't no way I'm lugging it up two and a half flights of stairs by myself. It has to have a wide-enough belt because I'm clumsy and my feet tend to flail all over the place, Phoebe Buffet-style. Free shipping would be great, no tax would be greater, and the ability to choose a delivery date and time would be the tops.

Of course, JUST when I think I've found the one I'm going to purchase ... I can't. Because I KNOW something better will come along within the five minutes after I make my buy.