But Freecycle has given me riches far beyond the material. I’ve met a saintly foster mom (and actually cried when she was told she couldn’t adopt one of the children), and several delightful junkster shut-ins who, miraculously, wanted chit-chat as much as I did. My husband secretly arranged to pick up a decade’s worth of old New Yorkers for me, surely the most romantic thing he has done since cutting little heart-shaped pork chops for me for Valentine’s Day circa 2000 (apologies to the vegans among you Freegans).

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