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It has now been two months since we started moving and the struggle is still not over. Part of the problem has been reassembling bookcases before our thousands of books could be put back into them. Bookcases these days are not made of real wood, but of some possessed leftovers from what may have only ten years ago been burned up as waste material. The sawdust and wood chips are of such poor quality that at that time nothing could have been made from it, and then the miracle workers of modern technology found a way to turn garbage into household products. That is all to the good, I suppose, but in this case the products get broken very easily because they have no strength in any direction other than the ones they are specifically designed to withstand. Thus, a bump made while moving, which ordinary wood would endure with hardly a dent, shatters the compacted sawdust into chunks.

Today I spent a couple of hours gluing and C-clamping several of these broken pieces of faux-wood back into reasonable semblances of bookcases. This time, my constructions have far exceeded the original specifications for assembly, as I glued and nailed panel edges together which were formerly held in approximate position with  small notches, headless mini-nails and little wooden dowels. Hopefully, these bookcases will never be moved again.

Unfortunately, as things look at the moment, that distant-seeming date may be close at hand. Books are fast becoming a relic of the past, and even a bookworm such as myself now has both a Kindle and a Nook, as well as access to vast libraries of online stuff from Google Books and Project Gutenberg. That is now, and the future is instantly upon us when everything imaginable and much not yet imagined will be available. Furthermore, who in the future will read, when they can watch virtually anything ever screened, which is so much less demanding than reading? So, who needs books and bookcases? Perhaps not even I.

Will I soon be more interested in my Holodeck than my books?

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