It seems my whole life I’ve been buying other people’s junk, dragging it home, and finding new ways to use it.

This might be because I was born under the Pack Rat, a little known zodiac sign of the bargain shopper. But then again, it could be because my first crib was actually a dresser drawer. Or at least that’s the story they tell at family reunions.

After having spent all of my life in Florida, from Tallahassee to Key West, I am now happily settled in the “junker's paradise” of western North Carolina where I live with my Discount Dude husband George and our two kids.

Thankfully, both of my children are genetically pre-disposed to second-hand shopping. In fact, when I was pregnant with my son, he would kick anytime I got near a bargain—I swear he was trying to get out early to shop. As a result I almost named him Clarence Sale Miller.

And my 5-year-old daughter insists on weekly treks to the local thrift store in her wagon. On a good day, she must walk on our return trip home, if you know what I mean. A not so good day is characterized by the realization that we inadvertently bought back some of our own previously donated treasures, a point not lost on my husband.