This isn’t about getting away with it. It’s about finding forever homes for grandma’s special wine-flavored cheese ball, and the Love Actually DVD your boyfriend forgot he gave you last year, too. This isn’t about being cheap or lazy. It’s about being the Santa of castoffs, the good shepherd of misfits. In the absence of Martha Stewart, I asked a friend who reminds me of her (because she’s graceful and gets away with it) to add some tips to my own scorecard on redistributing joy.

What’s fair game? Thoughtful gifts that just aren’t you; anything you already have; expensive or generally appealing goods like wine and books. (Just make sure the books don’t have personal inscriptions, you dirtbag.)

Never re-gift this: Something handmade or “so patently terrible that I know no one would want it.” Keep the former stashed until its maker comes to visit, and donate the latter in the hope there’s a human alive who digs knee-high, black-and-orange striped socks with finger toes.

Isn’t it tacky? “I don’t think you have to buy something in order for it to be a nice gift. I don’t think you have to believe the annoying capitalist construct Target wants you to buy into, that for a gift to be worthy it has to be ‘new.’”

What about the adage, it’s the thought that counts? When done right, re-gifting is thoughtful. If it’s a housewarming or dinner party, you’re cool to bring the random potpourri and candles. If it’s a birthday or Christmas, be sure the recycled gift really fits the person so you can both be happy about the exchange.

Speaking of exchanges … If you have too much guilt about traditional re-gifting, host a re-gift exchange so you and your friends can swap.

Speaking of friends … Don’t re-gift within your circle.

What do you do if someone asks where you got the re-gift? Don’t lie, just be coy: “Wouldn’t youuuuuuu like to know!” “I never reveal my sources.” “Aliens.”