Perils of Paper

I love my newspapers. I love my books. I love magazines (most especially The New Yorker).

But they get out of control. They threaten. One wonders if there will soon be shoulder-width paths and they'll be collapsing on the bed and invading the ill-used oven. If we'll be found in a sure enough fire hazard.

Today I'm trying to control the papers. At least the ones right next to my chair (all at least two days old). Maybe I'll attack the last couple of days (minus a few sections I've tossed) on the table.

Maybe I'll get to these. They crept into this bin in the last cleanup because there was still something I wanted to read.

When I read the papers, I find books I want to read by reading reviews. Yesterday I bought this one and started reading it instead of finishing even the day's papers.

And...it supplanted the book about Edward Lear that I was reading bedside and am getting close to finishing.

Maybe if I get through the papers I can attack the piles of magazines.

It's not like I read every word. Since we get The Wall Street Journal, The New York Times, and the local paper (The Austin American-Statesman), and, from time to time, various give away rags, there is repetition. Sometimes of the exact story when the local paper picks up and truncates the story from the NYT. I glance over the obituaries of the famous in the national papers and the locals (paid for relatives) in the local paper. Did I know them? How old? How did they die? I usually start the day with the Arts Section of the NYT. I try to work the Ken-Ken and crossword. I make a copy on M-W for my husband to try. I usually then read anything in that section that interests me. An art exhibit, film or theater review. A book review. (I really want to read that. Oh. No.) Later I may get to puzzles in the other papers. And the front page stories. I don't read sports. Directly to recycling, thank you. I am interested in tennis, but there is so little about tennis I don't bother to look. Except maybe during Grand Slam events.

Certain sections of the paper tend to suck me into long reads. Sunday NYT's Sunday Review can have one or two fascinating, not-to-be scanned stories. I can dispense with Style sections in a trice, however. I often find things that I want to find online and post on social media so others can see them and discuss them.

When I have these great ideas about cleaning out it usually ends like it did today: ink on my hands, a few sacks for recycling and, no, I'm not caught up. But I love the papers.