Because we still get old-fashioned mail delivery (right to our door) I listen as the mail carrier places our stuff in the mailbox. I can always tell by the sound (much louder and the top flap doesn't clank closed) when my new issue of the New Yorker is delivered. If my wife is home this creates a brief moment of panic because she won't wait until the carrier is at a safe distance down the street to collect the mail. I wait because I don't want him (or her) to think that I have nothing better to do with my day than wait for the mail. But since my wife has no such compunctions she barges right out, noisily pulls the mail out letting the top flap clank closed so the whole street knows, and comes slowly back up the stairs making me wait the extra few seconds of artery narrowing anticipation before coming over to me where I sit and saying, reluctantly, "Here's your New Yorker." (I think she gets a vicarious thrill by walking slowly and making me wait those extra few seconds.)
Sometimes, if she hasn't heard the delivery, she will notice the mail sticking out of the box and if the mail carrier has had sufficient time to withdraw down the street we will both race each other to get to the box first. It's her 123 lbs. to my 132 lbs. so it is not much of a jostling contest and one usually ends up holding the door for the other. If she reaches into the box first she usually just hands me the New Yorker with a disdainful "Here."
This all my seem trite to you but it is important to me to be the first to see the magazine - to take note of its cover art and peruse the table of contents to arouse my anticipation. I like to be first because this gives me an informational advantage over my wife and as we all know information is power! I also feel that I should be the first to possess it since I'm the one that so looks forward to it. My grandson, Ben, knows this and once, when we got fortune cookies for a dessert he said "I know what you want yours to say, Pa: that you"ll get a new New Yorker every day for a year!"
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Must be in the male Star genes... Josh snatches up *our* New Yorker and every once in a while some of the issues surface extremely late after the fact. I've caught him throwing out issues after he ravishes the contents without me. This puts me in a bad mood. But in reality, I'm not sure *when* I would read it; even though I always enjoy reading it, I've plenty of other enjoyable distractions. Sometimes, he will be so engrossed in an article in the New Yorker and when he's done with it, I eagerly ask for an assessment. Can you predict what's next? Of course, he pans it. I have to keep reminding myself that he downplays every experience or emotion he has. I'll do the praising,exaggerating and feeling for both of us. Oh and reconnecting with ex-girlfriends. :)
I loved Ben's comments.
And I don't like rushing to get the mail because I don't want to have to make chitchat with Sammy (our mailman).
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