Serena Williams has admitted to being an online shopaholic. Well, that's not entirely true. She didn't use the word "shopaholic." She just said she spent three hours a day during the French Open (and six on off days) shopping online.

	Things are looking up: Serena Williams says she's kicked the shopping habit.

This, frankly, looks like a job for Ron Popeil.

But once we get past the vision of her running up, say, $40,000 grand in shoes, clothes and stuff for her dog (who I'm sure appreciated the gestures as only a dog can), we can say at least this for Williams:

She is a remarkably lucky person.

Serena Williams is an almost normal 19-year-old -- almost normal only because she (a) is instantly recognized about everywhere, and (b) made $700,000 playing tennis so far this year.

Now I don't know how allowance works at your house, but chores don't run us $13,462 per bed made.

But she is normal in a very important way -- she can be easily lured by the come-ons of free time. And as lures go, spending money you have on stuff you might not need is pretty benign stuff.

After all, Jennifer Capriati is an example of what happens when free time is more destructive.

Capriati is, in fact, emblematic of most teenagers, rich or poor, motivated or indolent, who struggle through the ennui that often comes with getting from childhood to adulthood.

Many cope. Lots don't. Serena didn't, but she chose a vice that couldn't materially harm her, at least not in the short run. Maybe a lecture from the folks (which can in some cases be punishment enough for anyone), temporary suspension of the Visa privileges, and a closet full of shoes she may never wear.

But nothing worse than that. And there's where Serena Williams is one lucky person.

We have seen that the professional athletic lifestyle leads to several things:

A: Disposable income, and the fealty of underlings.

B: A sense of entitlement.

C: Lots of practice.

D: Lots of events.

E: Lots of free time to rebel against items A through D.

Rebellion is, after all, part of the gig for a teenager. It is during these years that teenagers finally understand what hopeless, ignorant, pathologically cruel gits their parents are, and how their lectures about motivation and self-starting and engaging the future and "You want to spend your life sleeping in the park with pigeon business all over your coat, stupid?" are to be ignored at all costs.

For further proof, please notice the spiky-haired lump on your couch watching "Spongebob Squarepants" while eating Captain Crunch cereal right out of the box.

And next to your husband, notice your son taking a nap.

And tennis practice is a particularly, almost criminally tedious exercise. A thousand ground strokes ... a thousand volleys ... a thousand overheads ... a thousand serves, from each side of the center line ... God almighty, just writing this paragraph makes me want to pump up Limp Bizkit and stick my head in the refrigerator until food starts sliding off the shelf and into my mouth.

And we're not even getting into the demands of the hangers-on, the annoying tennis press, the even more annoying commercial crews, and the "Why can't you be more like Kim Clijsters?" lectures from people they barely know. God, if it weren't for the money, the idolatry and the ease of lifestyle, this would be hell.

In other words, there were a lot of ways Serena Williams could have expressed her rebellious streak, and either through inherent wisdom or just plain luck, she did it with a modem, a credit card and a catalog from ShinyButUselessCrap.com.

If only teenage angst manifested itself that benignly for everyone.

Williams says she has kicked the habit, that she throws away any catalogs placed before her. If potentially addictive habits were that easy to kick ... but there's no reason not to believe her. After all, she volunteered this information, so it is reasonable to assume that she has escaped the entanglement of her computer cords.

On the other hand, if we see her dog with an emerald-encrusted chew toy while wearing Nike shoes and sweatclothes, sunglasses and one of those watches that tells you how long you've been jogging, we'll know she had a relapse.

You know, like our kids do every evening around 7:30.

Ray Ratto of the San Francisco Chronicle is a regular contributor to ESPN.com