In December I subscribed to Sunday New York Times, like IRL. Bonus: All the recipes from the Cooking site without paywall workarounds.
The first few weeks I was giddy, putting on a coat and slippers to retrieve the paper from the front sidewalk, then coming inside to sort through the stacks over coffee.
I started to get a sense of what could be skimmed and set in a recycle pile (opinion and weddings). The magazine went to the rack in the bathroom.
There were some good bits but I was starting to realize, this paper version is kind of hard to read—it requires really good light in the very least. And photos don’t look that great on the dull newsprint in CMYK.
Then we went on vacation and a pile of Sundays stacked up and I haven’t caught up since.
And those Magazines in the bathroom are getting moved all around because the good articles are longer than a restroom visit (unless you’re prepping for a colonoscopy).
I wish I needed newsprint for starting fires, packing objects to mail or had a blackout poetry hobby.
Alas, I do not.
But I’ll sort through this pile and give it one more month, only because they make cancelling so difficult (and Edie kind of likes the paper.)