So, it SEEMS that when my parents met, my mom was already well-versed in the ways of picking through other people's trash for goodies while my dad had never heard of such a thing. Resistant at first, he was eventually persuaded that dumpsters were a valuable resource for many things, such as spare parts and building materials. After some douche set our house on fire and burned up the back porch, my dad went to the K-Mart dumpster and collected a ton of stuff (clean particle board, flourescent lights, wiring, etc.; K-Mart was renovating and tossing thier old stuff), and totally renovated that area of the house, putting up a ton of shelving and lights. And that, folks, is why it is good to marry a man who was an electrician in the Navy and works in construction as an adult. What's a little bit odd now is that my early memories of my dad consist primarily of driving through back alleys in search of raw materials while my young self was under the impression that my mom dissaproved of the whole thing.