On Saturday, I went with Maria and some friends on one of my wife’s thrifting expeditions—a day long trip to a variety of discount stores in our area. Our first stop was a new place for her. The 25 Cent Store is a church shop just south of us, off the highway on a winding gravel road. It’s no frills: just walls, a roof, lots of racks, and some shelves. The inside smells of dust and mildew, but everything looks clean and, hey, costs only a quarter. It didn’t take me long to go through the men’s clothes. I’ve never have much luck in thrift stores outside of Bloomington. Most are dominated by women’s clothing. Women tend to update their wardrobe frequently. Men, on the other hand, will generally wear the same thing until it falls apart. Besides, I have a different build than most males in Indiana. I don’t wear an XXL shirt and my waist size is not 46 inches. (That's not me being mean, just truthful.) If I come away with a single anything, it’s a win. I knew Maria would be awhile.