Hello, my name is Patty, and I am a trashoholic (if that's a word). I love other people's castoffs. You know - those things that other humans have deemed used-up, no-good, ugly, broken, "past their peak", or, more simply, trash. Goodwill, Salvation Army Store, Habitat for Humanity Restore, my neighbors' trash piles, Craigslist, etc..., these places are where I find my treasures. I know that it is a sickness, or at least my poor family believes it is. They cringe when we go driving through the neighborhood on the night before garbage pick-up in my trusty 8 year-old Suburban and we cannot pass a promising-looking pile without stopping for mom to take a peak. I like to think of it as "keeping the landfill emptier by filling up my basement." One of these days I am going to actually finish refurbishing, repairing, and repainting all of those cast-offs, and my husband is going to beam, look at me lovingly, and say (in an amazed and adoring voice) "Let's go look on the curb for more treasure!" Yeah, I know I am dreaming: about actually finishing everything in my basement, as well as my husband being willing to go trash-picking with me. Because, as long as I breathe, I am never caught-up. It's always something.