It’s sad when one finds amusement in little jagged-edged colorful clippings. Every week I challenge myself to see how much I can save, and the more I save, the better I feel. Some women shop for shoes, but since my pregnant cankles are here to stay for the next month or so, in my book, a BOGO and a manufacturer’s coupon beats any DSW friends and family sale.
Seriously, why is there a “mental hurrah” behind saving a buck or two? Is there a Freudian theory that can be connected to this new obsession…?



