I hate to sound smug, but when you're golden, you're golden. That's right, I've already finished my holiday shopping - for next year! Now all that's left is to sit back and wait for the pages of the calendar to flip, and then I can dispense my bounty, stress free.

How did I get to this enlightened place? Like many Americans, I used to put off my shopping until, well, sometimes until after the actual holiday had passed, and this year, I was up to my same old tricks. It was Saturday morning, and I was standing in a motion-free line at the toy store, waiting to pay for my Play-Doh (which the clerk told me he couldn't gift wrap, per holiday custom), when it hit me, why not shop now - today - for Holiday 2003?

This was not the same empty vow I make every December, when I promise myself I'll shop throughout the year, picking up appropriate items as I see them -Ellen will love this! No, this time I was talking about taking immediate action. I'd strike while the stress was still fresh.

So I bolted out of line and began to forage. But hmm. What to get Andrew for next year? A Bob the Builder truck? A dinosaur floor puzzle? A tutu? I called his mom. ``What do you think he'll be into a year from now?'' I asked.

``Next year?'' The poor woman was baffled. I'd entered a new level of shopping, and it confused her. I decided on a second Play-Doh set - the stuff gets kind of grody after a while - and I got back in the stationary line.

Boy it felt good. Sure I was going nowhere, but because I was ahead in my shopping (well, for next year at least), not behind, and hence it was my choice to stand in that line, I actually enjoyed the Chipmunks Christmas music, and the young children fighting around me, and I wasn't even bothered by the customer arguing with the clerk and holding us all up. I knew how she felt. That used to be me.

Next stop the bookstore. Oh, look, it's the Harry Potter series. Those would be perfect for Liz's son. At least I thought so, but just to make sure, I gave her a call. ``Has Will read Harry Potter yet?'' I asked. He hadn't. ``Good. I'm buying him the set for next year,'' I told her. ``Can you make sure he doesn't read them between now and then?''

I was really getting into the holiday spirit, and decided to brave the Gap to look for a good friend's gift. I spotted the perfect pair of jeans, boot cut, low rise. I had a $5 off coupon, and I was all set to buy a size 6 when I remembered that her weight fluctuates, so I gave her a call to gauge which way the pendulum was swinging. ``How much longer do you think you can stay on Atkins?'' I asked.

I was feeling great, energized by the very lines that used to stress me out, so I decided to get in touch with a woman known for having her shopping done in July, so we could engage in some mutual-admiration-society chitchat. But she wasn't home. ``She's at the mall,'' her husband reported.

At the mall? I called her cell. ``I thought you'd finished your shopping.''

She had, but, she told me, she always shops the Saturday before Christmas to keep her muscles in shape should a shopping emergency ever arise (and by emergency she meant a sale at Neiman's, not a fast-moving snow storm).

Uh-oh. I hadn't thought of that. What if my great idea ended up making me soft? Maybe I better hit the mall on Thursday and return everything I bought. That should build some stamina.