Forty-five Boxes . . .

Honestly, I expected it to be more.

They're hiding somewhere. I missed a nook, or a cranny, or perhaps, they're lurking in the huge closet I can't get to yet because of the towering stacks of comics (and don't even get me started on the comics; I can't wait to see the bill for at least a dozen new long boxes).

There are two benefits to today's marathon boxing session. One: I got to see exactly what I own, and there were some pleasant surprises, mostly along the line of "Oh, I didn't remember having that!" or "How the hell did I get three of those?" I'm officially declaring a temporary moratorium on book-buying; I'll never live long enough to read everything currently in my library.

The other benefit? Now my office looks like a cross between a maze and a fort, and I didn't have to use any sofa cushions to build it.

But Then Again, You'll Have This . . .