The New Yorker and me – yes, again

What a fab afternoon yesterday, stretched out on the garden swing, catching up (or at least trying to) with the New Yorkers. 

Yes, yes, I know. I swore two years ago that I would never subscribe again. And indeed I did ignore the first three offers they sent me to receive a year’s worth of magazines for $75. But I succumbed to the fourth offer. Well, it was the spring and I had visions of exactly what I was doing yesterday running through my head: The New Yorker and me and the garden swing.

Difficult to believe the cover price is now $8.99. When the magazine with this iconic cover (framed and hanging on my kitchen wall) appeared, the price was 75¢.

Speaking of kitchen walls, the last time I wrote about The New Yorker and me, that time when I swore I would never do it again, I mentioned that I had once wallpapered the kitchen of an apartment with saved covers. I didn’t have a scanner at the time, so the best I could do was a digital photo of an old pic. Well, now I do have a scanner. 

Earlier this month my thirteen-year-old warhorse HP laserjet printer died. I asked friends to recommend a replacement. Someone suggested I get in touch with one of the computer guys on the island, which I did. He responded with two recommendations. Shortly after there was a follow up message informing me that he actually had a superfluous-to-requirements model of one of the printers he’d recommended, which he’d be willing to sell. Downside? It only prints one-sided. Upside? It not only prints, but scans, photocopies and – somewhat surprisingly – will apparently also send a fax. (When was the last time anyone sent a fax?)

So here’s a better copy of that photo.

I know the person who was moving in when I moved out of that apartment loved the New Yorker kitchen, but I do wonder how long it lasted. 

It was tremendously satisfying to spend time on the swing with issue from three weeks ago and the issue from two weeks ago. That just leaves the one from last week unopened on the kitchen counter. Unfortunately I suspect that when I stop at the post box later today there will be another one waiting. 

Three months in and it’s already feeling like this again.

It seems there are some lessons I just can’t learn.