As I start this column, just over the top of my laptop screen I can see a shelf packed with CDs and vinyl.

It’s not the only shelf that looks like that.

I’m a big fan of physical media, and I write about it often. It is without question one of the best ways to support your favorite musicians, along with attending their shows. Buying their CD or LP puts more cash in their pocket than 1,000 streams. I cherish mixtapes I’ve made on cassette and disc or the ones that were given to me more than any Spotify playlist I’ve created or that was shared with me.

I’m not going to weigh in on the debate over what sounds better, CDs or analog vinyl (my wife will tell you my ears shouldn’t be trusted). But I do know I like the ritual of listening to vinyl. I think it makes me a more engaged listener. It can provide a dopamine hit and I don’t think I’ve ever gotten while listening to Spotify through earbuds on my phone. I like album cover art. I like reading liner notes.

But after a week of watching wildfires ravage homes in southern California — some of which I’m sure contained collections that dwarfed mine and would make me drool with envy — it makes a person question getting attached to any “thing,” because those things can disappear in an instant.

There are many far worse images that have come out of news coverage and social media posts, but the one photograph I keep thinking about is one taken by Dawes’ former bass player Wylie Gelber posted from the charred remains of his home. It was an LP with a singed, melted rim, but the label still was intact and the title of Dawes’ third album was clearly visible — “Stories Don’t End.”

If I was facing the predicament many in California face, that charred LP couldn’t provide much solace or distraction while rooting through the remains of my property, but as long as there was cell service or Wi-Fi, Spotify would make a miserable job slightly more bearable.

Those fire images don’t have me planning a garage sale. I’m not getting rid of my collection. I’m not going to stop adding to it, although pre-fire I decided that the things I was giving up for “Dry January” would include vinyl shopping as well as alcohol. Maybe I’ll slow down some or be more selective.

One of the reasons I won’t abandon physical media is because streaming comes with its own risks.

Spotify has more music than anyone could listen to in a lifetime. But it doesn’t have everything. Neil Young wasn’t available for a long time. Other artists have decided the miniscule financial payout isn’t worth the “exposure” streaming services provide and have pulled some, if not all, of their music.

And it’s not just music, as those who sold off their DVD collections for pennies on the dollar are discovering. The promise that streaming will make everything available at any time isn’t the reality. You can’t access every Paramount movie on Paramount+ or every Disney feature on Disney+. There are plenty of minuses.

Last month “The West Wing” disappeared from Max. As soon as my younger daughter found out, she ordered all seven seasons on DVD because, “I can’t get through the next four years without President Bartlet.”

The day after she placed the order, “The West Wing” reappeared on Max, but she said she had no regrets.

It could be gone again soon. The only certainty is nothing is certain, and that’s true in entertainment and everything else.