The problem with having now-and-then good luck at thrift stores—and by that I mean finding stuff that has value in the real world, the one outside your house (can I just say eBay?)—is that you start thinking everything you see that looks the least bit odd is worth something. There's a danger in it.

While hunting for woman's shoes (not a usual proclivity, just part of my Halloween costume) last night, I found a copy of Hollywood Babylon from 1975 in hardcover. I bought it for about $1 and came home, looked it up, and found out that's about all it's worth. Now I'm stuck with it. I could care less about Hollywood.

Sometimes I'm ok at resisting the pull to buy things that I don't want. For example, I put down a handful of records: one that uses song to teach about outerspace (there was cut about the ionosphere), an early Hugo Montenegro record released by the US government, and Pair Of Fives (Banjos That Is) by Roy Clark and Buck Trent.

Usually, my goal of saping the value from finds just ends in my pockets being emptied of all but the lint. I make sure to stuff the receipts in right after I check out, just so the lint doesn't feel lonesome.