Tuesday, November 07, 2006


Have you ever been around the person that spends WAY too much time talking about things you find amazingly trivial? I remember in college my Mom would talk endlessly about the dog they got when they only had one kid left living at home. She would go on and on about what the dog did that day, all the while I was ringing up a hefty phone bill making my weekly obligatory phone call home. Another example is my Mother-in-law's play by play reenactment of the conversation she had with the ticket counter person at the airport. Her vacation stories are always highlighted with a good adventure getting bumped, or having a rude person not find an isle seat on the crowded jet for her as a last minute request.

So I think I have the story that my kids will be able to tell as their example of their mom focusing on the unimportant things in life. But here it goes anyway, and I apologize for those that have heard the story, but believe me, you most likely will hear it again and again until I find the ablitily to let it go.

My parents came to visit three weeks ago. Whenever they come, it's usually for a few days but this time, they were here for four nights. This is a good thing since they really are wonderful guests (in my eyes). In the past my dad has been so outraged that we don't have a paper ready for him to read in the mornings so I thought ahead and ordered the paper for their visit. I quit the Cincinnati Enquirer after Bush Jr. was elected since I blamed our conservative paper for endorsing him in a state that was so crucial in the election. (sorry, you can still blame Ohio for the State of the Union) Anyway, I went ahead and set up the Cincinnati Enquirer for home delivery. I thought, hey, I'll keep it until the election is over- it will do me some good. So the day my parents go to leave, the paper isn't on the doorsteps, or anywhere in the yard. Three of us went out to check. Of course my Dad suddenly thinks I stopped the paper a day early, did they outwear their welcome?

It was a fluke, the paper continued for the next few weeks, and let me tell you, I became HOOKED! I can't believe I've gone so long without it. I love knowing what is going on in the world, the nation, and the city. I was finally able to answer all of the questions on the NPR news radio show "Wait, wait, don't tell me". I was so proud that I was having thoughts of getting on the show so I could have the grand prize of Carl Kasell's voice on my home answering machine.

Sadly, my love affair of the paper has come to a halt. I had to cancel the paper today. And here is where the story starts to drag and drag, but I must continue to tell it...

So I started to get up earlier and earlier to read the paper cover to cover. I started getting up so early that the kids were still sleeping and I could read it uninterrupted. But this Sunday, it didn't come at 6:00, 6:30 the baby woke up and I took her out with me to hunt down the paper that was maybe hidden in the bushes. 7:00, still no paper. 7:30....Now all the kids are awake, no paper, and I'm on the phone with customer service with the Enquirer (I'm on hold for 7 minutes) Finally when I get someone, she assures me that she can have a paper on my steps within an hour and a half. With this trouble, she will also give me two free weeks of the paper. So I hang up happy. 8:30 and I also have my paper. 9:00, I have another copy of it- not sure what is going on now.

Monday morning comes and now I have three papers on my from lawn each about a foot apart from the next. I, of course, do not think that it is funny or a good use of paper. I get the point from the delivery person: DO NOT MESS WITH HIM. So I flip out. THAT IS IT, I no longer will deal with this obsession of mine. I'm breaking up with the paper. Again I call customer service. I'm on hold for 15 minutes and when the woman answers (not as kind as the Sunday lady) not only can she give me another free week, but she can have a manager call me back in a few days. A FEW DAYS? In my head the delivery person has suddenly become a crazed paper delivery person that knows where I live (obviously) and knows how guilty I feel over all of the trees I am killing by not reading it on line. I am certain this is the only true reason why he would leave all three of the papers on my lawn.

So without a better ending all I can say is, I guess another two years will have to go by before I'm inspired to read the Cincinnati Enquirer again since I fear the delivery people more than I fear bad politics.

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