Coffee on the keyboard


These are times of great change.

Today I learned another element of daily living soon will cease to exist in its current format.   Beginning next Spring, Detroit’s two downtown dailies will reduce home delivery to three days a week. Those who wish to read the newspaper seven days a week will have to log on to the Internet. The news in some printed format will continue to be published for distribution in sales boxes and at newsstands. 

This bold move, said to be the first of its kind in the country, is the result of rising fuel and print costs and declining ad revenue. It also aims to move the newspaper business into the future, embracing new models of information dissemination.

While this may seem a logical step to many if not most readers who do their information gathering online anyhow, for those of us *ahem* of a certain age, the tactile experience of the morning newspaper will be a huge loss. I’m not sure how this works for folks without Internet access or computers. 

My morning routine consists of firing up the coffee maker, filling the cat’s dishes with food, opening the front door and reaching down to grab the newspaper encased in a plastic sleeve. For as long as I can remember, everywhere I have lived, there always has been a folded paper on my doorstep in the morning. Always.


I spread open the paper on the table and inhale deeply as the pages release their ink-scented smell of fresh news.  I scan the headlines.  I make breakfast and pour a cup of coffee.

The crisp newsprint crackles in my hands as I leaf through the sections, working my way from the  news, editorials, letters to the editor and features all the way to the comics.  (Yes, I read the comics.) The table arrangement is as follows: newspaper on the left, breakfast center and coffee to the right.
By the time I’ve drained the last cup of coffee, I’ve worked my way through the pages. I rise to deposit the bundle in the recycling bin and then wash the ink from my hands. It’s been a lifetime ritual.
I’m no stranger to the Internet (If you are reading this, then it’s obvious.) and I’m looking forward to being a part of the new media movement. 
However, there are a few unresolved issues this plan didn’t consider:

  • Almost any well-read newspaper will sport a coffee ring or pages glued together with peanut butter or jelly or syrup. Most computer keyboards don’t take too kindly to blasts of hot coffee and showers of doughnut crumbs. Frankly, it’s a little awkward to eat Cheerios and maneuver the laptop keyboard. It can be done, but the hazards are far greater.
  • newway

  • Will I have to download and print the daily paper to place under the cat’s litter box? What about bird cages, what will line their floors? Obviously some household tasks will become more labor intensive.
  • The concept of the newspaper clipping attached to the refrigerator with a magnet now seems as outdated as waiting for the ice man to make a delivery.
  • I was going to mention how awkward it will be to balance a computer on your lap and read the news while riding a bus or train, but the husband says this is done already: Users of Blackberries and I-phones have been doing this for some time. Like I said ….. I’m of a certain age.
  • Without a weeks’ worth of newspapers, how on earth will I hide all those wine bottles in my recycling bin?

3 thoughts on “Coffee on the keyboard

  1. The two things I love about the morning; the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the smell of ink on a crisp newspaper.

    You know how they have that “New Car Smell” air freshener you can buy for your 1989 Pontiac? Because, seriously, who’s going to think your car is THAT old when it smells brand new? Well maybe they can come up with a Newsprint air freshener that we can spritz the area around our computers with…

    Or not.

  2. I’m embarrassed to admit i am not a paper-girl, despite my education in journalism…I don’t mind my news online. The hiding the wine bottles, tho, i feel ya. I never have anything tho hide mine, and they awaken me on Tuesday mornings crashing into the recycling truck. That’s the price i pay.

  3. Pingback: Mom Zombie » The one where I have a temper tantrum

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