Yeap, I think it's about time I took advantage of the company medical plan and sought some professional counseling. Today I was again frustrated by Chipotle's thoughtlessly small parking lot, eventually got in line behind a woman about my size—if I were dressed like that kid in A Christmas Story—and almost asked her aloud if she really.needed.that.burrito. At least I don't remember anyone reacting to me as if I actually did. Maybe, if my condition is left unchecked for much longer, I will. Or worse. (Last time I looked, however, there was no treatment for anomie in the DSM.)