I mentioned recently that a lot of things have been getting on my nerves.
That list is growing. I used to think that my current frustrations happened only at Christmas when I’m so busy, but we’ve been traveling a lot and I guess not staying home has taken its toll. There are books piled everywhere, mail stashed in every nook and cranny, and fresh vegetables stashed all over the kitchen counters waiting for me to figure out what to do with them. You get the picture.
But among the frustrations at the top of the list is managing a plethora of magazines and the subscription notices that accompany them.
I have a lot of interests; therefore I like a lot of magazines. Seems like there’s a magazine for every single interest and hobby. There are magazines on sewing, photography, jewelry-making, computing, farming. Gosh. I don’t know how anyone could be bored these days with all that information floating around. And as if all those ideas and photos weren’t enough to inspire you in any direction, there’s the added bonus (or in my case, albatross) of links among those pages to send you to a gazillion other Websites to intrigue you.
In the past, these indulgences have given me lots of pleasure. But one almost needs a full-time assistant to take care of them.
My most current peeve occurs when you subscribe to a new one.
After you send off for your first issue, they send you the current month’s issue in the mail (which is usually the one you read where you pulled out the card to subscribe).
Then about five days later you get the issue of the PREVIOUS two months; narrowing your annual subscription to eight or nine issues a year.
Despite the bait and switch, I still fall for it. My favorites magazines are New Yorker,
Traditional Home (my mailing label says I’m good until 2011 on that one), Domino and
House Beautiful. When those come in the mail, I stack them on my coffee table on the back porch, my “favorite” reading room, and save them for special “down” time when I can savor them at my leisure, page for page. Some out there now still have the wrapping on from April.
Because I love to cook, I used to subscribe to all kind of cooking magazines but I stopped those cold turkey. I have enough cookbooks to fill that need. The only pseudo-cooking magazine I get now is Southern Living, and I only get that because if you get off of their mailing list for a few months, they’ll tempt you back with an offer of $12 for 12 issues, or something similar. I really enjoy the Thanksgiving and Christmas issues, so when I can get it for $1 an issue, I usually bite the bullet and send the check.
I love Paula Deen’s and Oprah’s magazines, but I glance at those while waiting in line at the grocery stores. If you go to one of the newer bookstores around, they have lounge chairs where you can sit and read them for free. It took me a while to figure out why they do that … but I now know it’s because there are suckers like me that will buy them no matter the cost.
And speaking of cost, have you looked at the price of them lately? We work like Trojans trying to save money on the staples and could spend $9.99 on one of those special editions if you’re not watching.
My sister Randy has a habit I copied two years ago. Inside one of her kitchen cabinets she posts a handwritten note where she records every magazine subscription she renews or initiates, along with the check number and starting and stopping date. What a great idea! Now when they send me those “renewal” notices that say, “We haven’t gotten the payment for your renewal yet (and the reason is because you didn’t renew it … they’re just baiting you),” you know right away you haven’t ordered it and can toss it in the trash.
I also am embarrassed to say I get both New York and New Yorkers magazines. They practically give those away if you wait long enough. The problem is that they both come weekly and there’s so much good stuff in there I don’t want to miss any of it.
I took a stack of used ones to the Medical Clinic the other day. I felt guilty about dumping them in the recycle bins because there’s so much good stuff there to share.
I hope I live long enough to enjoy the ones I still have waiting.
’Til next week.
WRITER’S NOTE – Pardon my blushing cheeks. I incorrectly stated last week Mr. Lowe, the tomato man at Farmers’ Market, had passed away. Happily, I was wrong and he is still with us although not actively selling at the market. My apology to Mr. Lowe.
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