I'm living on a battlefield, a war zone, if you will. It's not the type we see on the news, reports we watch in far away lands. Nor is it as deadly. But alas, it's not pretty.
The war that rages at the end of my street has no bombs or mortar fire. In fact, few people even know it exists. There are no real casualties and I suppose the only collateral damage is me.
The battle I speak of is Hubby vs. Paper Boy. I truly believe it may have a future as a new game for X-Box.
We have taken this daily newspaper for over 20 years. We have seen many a delivery person (aka paper boy) throughout the years. We even delivered it ourselves at one time.
I thought that would be a great learning experience for our daughters. It would teach them, at an early age, what responsibility is all about. It would show them the value of having a job, and give them a strong work ethic of a job well done. I do not recall how long we delivered this particular paper, but it was long enough to go through seasons of snow, ice and warm weather.
During the warm weather and especially on the weekends, we would load their bicycle baskets with 75 newspapers and send them on their way. They were about 8 and 5 years old at the time, they rode all over our small town, even a bit outside of the city limits. They dodged traffic and were chased by dogs and I'm sure the entire experience forged in them the tenacity to never put their own children through such calamities. Sigh....it really seemed like a good idea at the time.
It is not the most glamorous of occupations, or one that will make a person wealthy. Unless, perhaps, you live in a tent and have no monthly expenses, except for food. But, none the less, it was their first exposure to the real world and we were determined to do it right. The one thing we did succeed at was going through two sets of brakes on the car. Plus, if my memory serves me correctly, we wore the doors out too.
There were two main reasons for my husband choosing this particular paper. One, it covers local sports better than its competitor in our area and two, it's delivered in the morning.
The early morning delivery time is 6 a.m. That means it is supposed to be on the porch, in the paper box or where ever you expect it to be, by 6 a.m. On Sundays it's 7 a.m.
My husband is a creature of habit. He has a morning ritual that you can set your clock by. When we owned our business, all the people that lived on the street he took each morning to open the shop, knew exactly what time it was when they heard the rumble of loud pipes.
He rarely deviates from his schedule. The only time I can remember him getting out of sync was shortly after he got his first pair of contact lenses. He was a mess, even frantic, because he couldn't see. I suggested that perhaps he had placed the lenses in the wrong eye. He didn't think that was a possibility, but after some gentle coaxing, he switched them.....then he could see just fine....it was a miracle.
Since he is still working, his morning routine is pretty much the same. He rises early, spends exactly 25 minutes in the bathroom doing whatever it is that guys do in there, fixes his coffee, retrieves his work vehicle, reads the paper, has some breakfast and leaves the house by 6:50. Again, you can set your clock by this.
The part about reading the paper is where the slow simmering of war has risen its ugly head. The paper has been late. First it was just a little late, but all is not fair in love and war, and a new strategy has been put into play.
He called the circulation department and complained. He called them again, and complained. Since the paper boy was kind enough to give us his phone number, he called him and complained. THAT was a most lovely conversation to hear first thing in the morning.
Mother's old adage of "the squeaky wheel gets the grease" has not worked out so well for my husband. In fact, it has done just the opposite, the paper is rarely here before 7:30. Yes, he could read it in the evening, but that kind of defeats the whole purpose of having a morning paper and besides, it's all old news by then.
I've been thinking about starting to exercise more, it would be good for me. I'm thinking that at the first of the year, we will drop our monthly subscription to this newspaper. I will rise early, jog to the local convenience store, buy the paper out of the machine (it seems to get there on time) and jog home. This will not only help me to achieve buns of steel, but will bring a small slice of world peace to the southern end of South Corey Street.
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