In the end, it will take twelve shelves to finish transforming the room. True, it would be quicker to purchase ready-made shelving. Quicker, brasher; the end result would be just that: twelve identical shelves.

I haven't taken that route. Not this time, and I'm not even completely sure why.This morning, I tapped fingernails against the varnish of the third shelf, satisfying myself that the horizontal surface of the shelf would be smooth enough for my liking. Of the three done so far, it is probably the lightest.

They take enough time to do. By the time they are finished, I know them well. They are—intentionally—imperfect. If I wanted complete, glossy perfection, I would haul out the sander and work on the end grain of the shelving, to make it perfectly smooth and neat.

Instead, I sat at the kitchen table with ripped-off hanks of 220 grit sandpaper, rubbing the shelves down by hand. For lack of a less descriptive phrase, we had a talk over some sandpaper, the shelves and I. By the time I rubbed the corners down smooth and tamed the roughness of the end grain a bit, we were bordering on old friends.

Each shelf got a single coat of stain and either three or four coats of a clear gloss polyurethane. By the third coat, the smooth parts had that strange slippery, nonporous feel that only comes with, well, varnish. The end grain was still unpolished; tamed, but unpolished.

They're pine, after all.

Only after finally remembering to buy myself some gloves did my hands stop reeking of turpentine. I hated the smell, but the cats found it strangely fascinated.

I've waited three years to start working on the reading room, despite the cringe of embarrassment I felt every time a visitor would look in the room and say, "Haven't started working on this room yet, have you?" Somewhere past the embarrassment was puzzlement—puzzlement over how the room should be done.

Then Kat and Sean decided to move. First, their old couch came available, then the frame for a papasan chair, both at prices that would have been idiotic of me to turn down. We bought both, and eventually situated them in the room.

Once they were there, I had my answer. Shelves on the walls. Sofa under the window, for the light. Papasan chair against the far wall. Take the old cheap bookshelves and move them to the enormous master bedroom, to use as temporary storage. A square coffee table for games, a few end tables for holding drinks, vases, and whatever strikes my fancy. Perhaps, eventually, a little love seat or another table on the far side of the room.

Suzan said it well: we'll have the living room for geeky pursuits (the tivo, the DVDs, the stereo). The reading room will be for everything else: the books; the games; and most of all, the serenity that comes from curling up on the couch with a cat, a sunbeam, and a really good book.

Perhaps even a real, honest, knitting basket. After all, I do most of my yarn work in the autumn and winter. The timing's almost too perfect.

This afternoon, I took photos of the room: the front view, as seen from the living room (note jam left over from last year); the view from the kitchen (whose connecting door we have removed, because we never closed it and it cut off part of the room); and the side of the room closest to the foyer.

If you look carefully in that last photo, you can see two of the shelves propped against the wall. They—and the third, resting in another portion of the room—will be hung on that wall soon. Hopefully, tomorrow night.

First, the shelves. Then, the tables. Then, whatever decoration is necessary.

Only then will I explain to Edmund that he really needs to share the papasan chair with me—even if he does think it's his own personal Cat Throne.

The sooner I sand, stain, and varnish, the sooner the room comes into full use.

Changes soon. Can't wait.

(P.S. - Monica, you should recognize that Sylvester pillow. I still have the Taz pillow as well. It's on the couch, but hidden under a blanket. Of all the things to survive the Looney Tunes freshman dorm room decoration spree…They totally don't match anything I own, but I'm way too attached to the silly things to give them away.)