I've been moving armloads of books down all week, and today I finished. However, I realized (too late) that I'd moved MY books first, and Dean's last, and since they are all presently stacked on a table in the basement, this means that his are all in front and on top of mine, so that mine are completely inaccessible (and he never reads his books, anyway)! So I guess now we really will HAVE to move those bookcases down the stairs, because I'll never see another book until we do.
The bookcases aren't very good - just typical pressboard bookcases from The Bay, nearly 20 years old, and the one on the end is falling apart because the weight of the books pressing out on the free side caused the shelves to come unattached. I think I can fix it; we really have no choice, because new bookcases would be very expensive (and no better built). The only alternative is to learn how to build wood bookcases myself, but that's a bit of a longterm strategy, and we need something right now.
Despite the work, it's been fun at times to move the books. I was able to reunite old friends - my Jane Austen novels and criticism had gotten scattered about into 3 different bookshelves. And I found books I'd forgotten I had - I'm re-reading my Joan Aiken novels, and after going through The Wolves of Willoughby Chase and Black Hearts in Battersea, I was delighted to find that I DID have a copy of Night Birds on Nantucket, so I'll tackle that one soon. If you want a good, spunky heroine, forget about Lyra Bevilaqua - Dido Twite is MUCH better, and she doesn't need to use a Magic 8-Ball to get out of trouble, either.