I read the Sunday paper today. It's not the Washington Post but rather something put together by a little group out here in Northern Virginia. It's been awhile since I've read an actual paper delivered to the house. I'd forgotten what a wonderful, tactile thing it can be.
It's sitting on the floor next to me as I write this. I read the first bit over lunch. Then lunch "struck" and I was suddenly overcome with drowsiness. But it's waiting there for me to pick it up, peruse through, keep a coupon or two, make a mental note or three and move on.
It's been awhile. It's been missed. There's only a Sunday paper delivered to this household, near as I can tell. But at least there's that on a cold, dreary Sunday. And if we're not careful in this country, we won't have that little bit of tactile comfort anymore either.