I used to get really nasty to myself about it, beat myself up, etc. now I don't. I usually can't get myself together about returning things, but then I discovered thereis always, always someone around me that really needs what I have bought so carelessly. So, that stupidly expensive pair of boots that were too small fits my undersized motherin law with Reynaudsyndrom WONDERFULLY, the communting jacket that pulls on my shoulders looks like it was sewn for my colleague who had her coat stolen on the train. Etc. My plague is someone else's answer to prayer. That actually feels kind of good.