Saturday's Sunday Paper

I know Tiffany loves me because she lets me leave the Sunday New York Times stacked all around the apartment until the next Sunday paper comes. Maybe a better person can read the Sunday paper in one sitting, but it takes me a good seven days to read the two we subscribe to. Actually, it would take me longer than seven days, but Tiffany only loves me enough to let the paper be stacked all around the apartment for one week. After that she loves me a little bit less and a little bit less with each passing minute.

I know it's been a week when I hear:

"Rebecca! The paper! I can't take it anymore!"

I'm sure I have my strategy all wrong. Here's what I do: I read the parts I like least--all the hard news and business news that makes me feel a little bit panicked inside--before I let myself read the parts I like most, like Modern Love and the profiles of people and the reviews of shows I'd love to see and the advice columns and the magazine. Yes, I know this is self-deprivation, but, what do you expect? Haven't you read my profile? I wash my dinner dishes before I eat dinner.

Anyway, in between the parts I like least and the parts I like most I'm distracted by life: trips to the farmers' market and the grocery store and work and making meals and reading the magazines I subscribe to and the books I check out at the library and trying to make sure all of those tasks and reading materials don't stack up like the Sunday paper. A girl can only have so many stacks.

But what happens is that I end up almost not being able to read the parts of the Sunday paper I like most because I leave them until there are just hours remaining until the next Sunday paper arrives. When I hear:

"Rebecca! The paper! I can't take it anymore!"

I grab the good parts and immediately sit down on the couch and read furiously.