Here I am at home, after a hard day of doing whatever it is I do, standing amidst some of my book collection.
The second picture, the one where you can out authors like Brian Keene and J.F. Gonzales and Graham Masterton, shows the bookcase that my father built me more than 20 years ago. When I got my first apartment, back in the day, I needed a bookcase. My dad built me this one. Other than having to reinforce the backing once or twice, the bookcase remains in excellent condition. I would expect no less from my father.
The other bookcase, the one I'm resting my left arm on, was built by a person in the early 1990's. I needed more bookcases. The template he used only had 4 shelves and I needed 5. He built me 3 such bookcases, and I love them. I spent hours in the boiler room of my old apartment building finishing them, rubbing sandpaper over all of them and then applying a varnish. I didn't do a bad job; it is still rough in places. On the wall are additional shelving units which presently hold vhs tapes, 99% of which will disappear during the Winter months. I have said it other years, and this time, I mean it. Dad built those for me as well, just a few years ago. Thank you, Dad. I still miss you and think of you every time I am in this room, and I'm in this room a lot.
That's it for tonight, folks.
See you tomorrow.
Bevboy
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