I'm picky.

I'm not what you would call high maintenance. I'd rather eat at home than go out to a nice dinner; I'd rather tromp around in the woods than spend a weekend shopping in the big city. My jewelry is limited to my lovely, traditional wedding ring and some simple, sentimental pieces.

But gosh, I'm picky.

When I get it into my head that I want something, it's usually a very specific something. I might have a hard time describing it but I can picture it perfectly in my head. Once it was a brown sweater, but it had to be a particular kind of brown sweater. Not bulky. Not too thick, not too thin. Not light brown, but a nice, dark brown. Not dressy, not a cardigan. Maybe with a hood or pockets. I looked all over and eventually found it - a year after I started searching.

I waited months for the perfect glass shelves. I scoured scores of stores for the perfect black fleece mittens (found in Macy's, by the way - I should have bought a few pairs). And, just today, I found the perfect Christmas decoration to accent my Precious Moments nativity scene and the manger my dad made to house the Jesus, Mary, Joseph, the shepherds and the lambs. I'm still looking for the right wall hanging for our dining room.

This is why, I think, I'm a terrible bargain hunter. I don't go shopping; I go buying. Because I'm so gosh-darn picky, I buy things when I see the right ones and generally give the price tag no more than a cursory glance. Yes, I try to make use of coupons and I do have my limits...we do not carry credit card debt so I always know I have the cash to pay for what I purchase. But I will drop some big bucks on that perfect sweater, even if it means that's the only one I buy all winter.