December 1–22, 2002 — The moral pitfalls of bookbinding

Between September, 2001, and August, 2002, I watched my savings account decline. There were months here and there when I was able to switch to black ink with the combined income from my job at the smoothie bar and from freelance work, but the rest of the time I relied on savings from my office job of the summer before to cover the deficit.

When pay cheques from my new job started to arrive in September, 2002, I was able to save money again. The prospect of being able to save up for something more expensive than pants or running shoes was very exciting to me, especially if I only had to work three days a week to manage it.

So I started saving for a new computer. (Or a computer that would be new to me, at least.)

I didn’t really need another computer. My old one was working fine. But it was cluttered, and the prospect of starting fresh appealed to me. Also, I didn’t like the idea of leaving my primary computer turned on all the time. (I had done this for almost eighteen month so that my webcam could upload a picture every minute.) So I decided to buy a new computer, one that I would keep organized and could turn off, leaving the old computer under a table or desk where it would live out its days uploading a picture of my room once every minute.

I bought another refurbished computer. It cost less than $600 after taxes and is very large, much larger than my old computer. I am convinced that size is directly proportional to durability and that my new computer will last forever.

But regardless of whether or not my new computer was destined for eternal life, my daisy-chained power bars weren’t really up to the task of powering three computers and my stereo. The obvious (to me) solution was to run 75 feet of extension cord from an unused plug in Johnston’s room and to use that to power one computer and my stereo, leaving everything else plugged into the old power bars.

I’d go so far as to say that my room might be slightly less of a fire hazard now.

Once my new computer was working, I decided that my next priority for the month of December was to learn how to bind books.

I also decided that to fulfill my checklist for the month of December, with learning more about bookbinding and typography as high priorities, I would have to figure out how to borrow books from the Toronto Public Library. (One way or another, though, December was going to involve a lot of books, bookbinding and book design.)

Amy had explained the library’s procedures to me, but it seemed a bit too easy. She told me that the entire library catalogue is searchable online, and that while my local library is unlikely to have many (if any) books I would ever want to borrow, the combined collection of every library in Toronto would probably have something for me. Also, I could have any book I wanted sent to my local library for me to pick up.

I wondered why I had been buying so many books. My laziness is matched only by my hesitation in spending money on things I don’t need, and if I could have any book I wanted delivered to a library three blocks from my house (without even leaving my house to arrange the delivery), I could see myself reading a lot more for a lot less money.

I headed for the library carrying a pay stub with my Toronto address on it and a stack of ID cards with my Ottawa address on them. Getting a library card was very easy. I put eight books about bookbinding and typography on hold that afternoon.

A week later, most of my books had arrived. Most were terrible. Seven out of eight. But that eighth book, one on bookbinding, had been worth getting a library card for.

I went shopping at art supply stores the next day, searching for needles, thread, a bone folder, and an awl. I didn’t buy the bone folder on my first trip, worried it was made of real bone and deciding I could use my finger instead. That night I tried using my finger and decided that I needed a bone folder, justifying it to myself in a roundabout way similar to Amy’s justification of wearing leather shoes that she found in her neighbour’s garbage. Though my justification was much less valid than Amy’s.

For the next few days, I made tiny notebooks with their pages sewn together and then glued to a cover made from specialty paper. I enjoyed myself more than I expected to, and I was glad to be away from the computer.

After all that, I finally have a new computer, and I’m using it less than the old one. I think the extra effort involved in turning it on each time that I want to use it is to blame. The $589 I spent on it might prove to be an even better investment than I thought...