I decided to address my nasty habit of reading articles and magazines without actually reading them by committing to The New Yorker for one month. I
read this issue of the text-heavy magazine cover to cover only because my friend's Velcro annotations pulled me into articles that I'm certain to have skipped.
I bought my next issue at JFK a few days later on my way to Arizona then another for my flight home. Now I chomp for the next issue and impatiently wait for my one-year subscription to kick in.
It took a while but I've finally grown into The New Yorker and it couldn't have come at a better time.
Eating all of the scrambled eggs. Turning lights off when we leave. Not needing to come home. Being in for the night at 6 p.m. Picking up food I've dropped. Eating the whole bowl of popcorn. Sleeping in. Walking by Fetch with no reason to enter. The big gaping hole in my heart.
