There’s a debate raging in my home. Okay, that’s an absurdly exaggerated way of saying my boyfriend and I have hashed out a few pros and cons of a particular topic while I pore over a crossword puzzle and he thumbs through the Home Depot ad. Our breakfast-table bandy? Daily newspaper delivery: Time-old tradition/harmless indulgence or planet-punishing, outdated, unnecessary routine?
So, Boyfriend has somehow been able to ride some $5-per-year subscription offer for the local daily newspaper for the better half of a decade (far longer than I’ve been coming to his door!). He and I used to live in a condo, where a predictable early a.m. thunk would tell us the paper carrier had just chucked the tightly bundled and bagged (in a sensible recycled-recyclable green plastic sleeve) newspaper up the stairwell. All we had to do was open the door, snatch up our news, open it up, toss it on the table, and soak in headlines as we scurried about getting ready for work. Totally worth the $5—and not too much of an eco-infraction.
Now we live in a house. A house with a really long driveway. A house with a really long, oftentimes muddy driveway, the end of which now hosts a smattering of those green bags, all of them damp and crinkled, some of them frozen to the ground. The sad, plain truth is that, when fetching the paper requires pulling on shoes and a bathrobe and toddling to the street Tony Soprano–style, neither of us is up for the adventure. The green bundles pile up and we hit the Web and tune into NPR and ESPN Radio for our news (not much shakes down in sleepy Boulder anyway, so missing the morning’s local dish rarely renders us out of the loop).
Time to cancel the subscription, right? That’s what I’d say. Why waste paper, create a neighborhood blight, and jam up the recylcer with soiled, smeared, unread gazettes? But then again, as Boyfriend points out, I religiously—rain, shine, or mud be damned—retrieve the Sunday edition even if only for the New York Times crossword puzzle and “Dear Abby.” Also, he’s usually good for a paper round-up ’round Tuesday or Wednesday to make sure he (a closet coupon clipper) isn’t missing a screaming deal on asparagus or Asiago. Plus, we use those green plastic sleeves, given they’re not torn or mud caked, to pick up what our sly li’l sheltie leaves behind. And, seeing as we’re doing a fabulous job as of late steering clear of plastic shopping bags, we kind of need these greenies to keep a poo-free yard.
Then there are the even thornier questions (bear with me … almost done), such as: If the rest of the ‘hood receives the paper, would canceling ours really save much more energy? It’s not like the delivery truck would stop rumbling up our street. And “our” newspaper would still be printed, right? Wouldn’t it just be distributed elsewhere or maybe even sit unread on a coffee-shop end table?
Oh, the conundrum. Clearly, I dig my weekly word puzzles and etiquette advice and Boyfriend delights in trolling for two-for-ones. We’re not spending major cash to score these luxuries, and we’re doing what we can to greenify our indulgence. Still though, even without definitive answers to many of my questions, my perpetually eco-minded conscience is telling me it’s time to cut the cord. But it’s been telling me that for a while now … and I still haven’t drawn the scissors.
So I’d love some assistance. Keep the paper coming or kick it to the curb (where it often stays anyway)? Boyfriend says he’s fine with whichever I decide. In the meantime, I’ll look online to see what advice Abby has offered to BEFUDDLED IN BOULDER.
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