Adore my PaintShop and its shelves of books and brain/soul food, its Dollar Store curtain rods of zip-tied carded action figures, its boxes of bagged and boarded comics from each of my collecting / procurement eras, then/now/in-between – love it but were I to consider the ideal (as I'm going to do now), I'd be surrounded by floor to ceiling shelves (ok, maybe one large wall open for original art and lobby cards for old horror flicks), dreamshelves, each tall and deep enough to hold everything from the smallest issue of isolarii to the burgeoning vinyl collection to the largest comics Omnibus / Absolute edition (or Ware's BUILDING STORIES - think that's the tallest but I'm not sure - that Taschen book on Magic is up there, as are the FAR SIDE and CALVIN AND HOBBES and NEW YORKER collections) and everything in between organized alphabetically by author and, most importantly, irrespective of the medium: vinyl between Blu-Ray Bergman doorstop boxsets and umpteen editions of HEAT and THE GODFATHER and MULHOLLAND DRIVE between books between bagged and boarded writers' runs on a particular comics series between Universal Monster VHS sub-organized within by year of release and, in the middle of it all, in the middle of a room wide enough to contain both these walls of dreamshelves AND toil upon both of its not-inconsiderable sides, KaijuDesk – or, hell, how about all four sides (it's called KaijuDesk for a reason) – spaced for optimal pacing and chair leaning underneath aforementioned and requisite Dollar Store curtain rods of ziptied action figures from on high like Mr. Choo-Choo's private car (though I wouldn't depend on them to prevent falling), memories and inspirations above and on all sides.