OtherThanThat

I admit it. When it comes to media consumption I’m really rather old-fashioned.
Strange to say, perhaps, for someone who logs into email and checks her RSS feeds before pouring her morning coffee, but in spite of my digitally saturated information existence, I retain a strong connection to the actual printed word.
And boy is my chiropractor happy about that.

You see, though I’ve cut back substantially on the number of hard copy subscriptions I receive, my mailbox still ends up stuffed on a regular basis.
For starters there’s my daily addiction to The New York Times. Yes, I know I can get it all on-line, but my dirty little secret is that I LIKE reading a daily paper. I like the feel of newsprint. I like the crinkly whoosh of turning the page as I quietly guzzle my morning coffee.
If it were just the paper it might not be a problem, but my penchant for periodicals includes the regular arrival of Business Week, The New Yorker, Vanity Fair and Portfolio with the occasional newsstand purchase of any number of other glossy gems.
Problem is, who has time to read them all?
The good news is that my incessant need for exercise means that there’s a 45 minute window at least five days a week during which I’m shackled to the elliptical at the gym. And so goes my consumption of Business Week.
But the rest lay quietly in a pile … until I travel.
And this is where my chiropractor’s support of my print addiction comes in.
When I hit the road for a trip – as I often do – the stack of magazines gets swept up, stuffed into my carry-on and toted along. The good part is that my bag is lighter on the way home. The bad news is that I generally arrive to my destination walking in a posture that mildly resembles Marty Feldman in Young Frankenstein.
Good thing this hotel in Paris has a spa.