I've been cleaning up our unfinished basement, slowly but surely, as the time is drawing near to finally turn it into liveable space. The old bookshelves we have in the basement currently have, for the past four years, housed about half our comic collection with the other half living in a little over a dozen long boxes out in the hermetically sealed shed in the backyard (don't ask about how they were organized...). It took 15 more boxes to remove the floppies from underground to out of doors and I'm worried the shed is going to sink under the weight... and we still have a bookshelf of trades to more in there (at least 5 more long boxes worth). While packing up the comics into my new, still vintage white long boxes ("Made in Canada" emblazoned on the insides, a proud heritage moment) I was seeing books I hadn't touched in years, many of which I've yet to even read and it dawned on me... I have a problem. Still. I've had this revelation before. Last time I moved all those books onto those shelves and again when I last made room on those shelves. I love comics...l love buying then and reading them and looking at them and thinking about them and reading about them and talking about them... I take comfort in knowing that they are there for me to get to, hopefully, at some point. There's no rush, or urgency once I've acquired a comic to read it, though my weekly pull books tend to be a little more demanding staring me in the face in a pile beside the bed. But then, the satisfaction I get from having a comic is doubled when I look at the cover, like a Think Tank #8 sitting atop my read-and-to-be-sorted pile, and know I have a book I not only own and read but also enjoyed and would like to come back to someday... in this case if only to see how the world has caught up or surpassed Matt Hawkins great use of theoretical, speculative, in-development and fringe sciences and technologies. Hey science, we need Tesseract long boxes.