To Sunday or Not to Sunday

A subscription renewal envelope fell out of last Sunday's paper, so it's that time again. Time to decide if I even want to keep getting the Sunday paper.

Last time the decision was made for two ridiculous reasons. My husband enjoys the sale inserts and convinced me clipping the grocery coupons more than paid for the subscription.

But now that I've reached the point where I barely read any of the paper at all, the fact that the subscription cancels out whatever savings I get from grocery coupons makes that seem less of a deal.

The more my life gets automated by electronic conveniences, the more annoying manual transactions are -- clipping and sorting coupons, pulling them out in the store and going through them by hand in every aisle. Who has the time! Besides, I scan my grocery card at a machine on the way in and it prints out a sheet of coupons for things I often buy anyway. Or I scan my card on the way out and it gives me all the sales. (Who shops without a card these days?)

I could live without the coupons. Sometimes they work against me. Sales inserts create a desire to buy items I actually don't need, like ever-changing types of household air freshener dispensers. And my husband can definitely live without the sales inserts because it only creates a desire for things we can't afford. We replaced two perfectly good TVs last fall because of store sales. Yes, we wanted them, but we didn't actually need them.

As for the rest of the paper, I only read Dilbert in the comics. I only read the fake questions and answers about celebrities in Parade. Definitely won't miss that. I don't open Sports or Celebrations. So now I'm down to what used to be called the A and B sections, Flair and Moneywise, or whatever the business section is called. I used to read the help wanted ads just to see if I could be doing better somewhere else, but now I have a problem finding wherever they are. And there's not that many of them.

Even this small pile of sections seems like a chore to get through on Sunday mornings. There's no convenient space on my table to spread out the paper and once your eyes get bifocally or trifocally challenged, reading on the sofa is impossible without a lot of folding and unfolding the paper into smaller sections. I'm not in the mood for origami on Sunday morning.

Sundays are not like they used to be: church, a big lunch that looks more like dinner, TV sports, a smaller meal, "60 Minutes," bed. Mom used to be able to relax with the paper because she had been home all week cleaning the house and doing the shopping. Well, not on this planet. I've been at work all week. The house is a disaster area. I've probably spent all Saturday cleaning and doing 10 loads of laundry, and Sunday I have to shop for groceries and other things. Who has time for a big newspaper? I don't. No time.

The paper was always something I read in the evening during commercial breaks or boring TV interludes on one of the four television channels. Now I get 300 television channels, and there's no boring interludes because I've recorded only the shows I want to watch, and I watch them straight through, fastforwarding through commercials and car chases. There's no time for any reading, and if I do find a moment, I look at my Twitter feed on my iPod Touch. The news is there in a series of headlines. The iPod fits in my hand and I can easily hold it right up to my eyes.

The first Sunday the paper is not on the lawn when my husband goes out to smoke his morning cigarette and hack and cough, he's going to whine. What about Best Buy? I don't know what's going on at Best Buy. Well, you don't need to know what's going on at Best Buy. Besides, that flyer is actually on their website every week. You can virtually turn the pages with your mouse just like it was a real paper. I'll buy you a wireless keyboard to go on your Playstation 3 and you can access it on your big TV hanging on the wall. You just can't take it into the bathroom anymore.

I don't want that to be the winning argument for spending $30 for 13 weeks of Sunday papers: so he can look at the Best Buy flyer in the bathroom. That would be sad.