But for one weekend, it’s nice to be caught up.
Someday I will adopt a fall-back position:
I subscribe to way too many magazines, which means, inevitably, that I toss out a lot of them without reading every last article. Or sometimes, alas, without reading any articles at all. Some magazines, of course, are harder to throw out than others, The New Yorker being the classic example. To subscribe to The New Yorker is to accept the feeling of inadequacy that comes with flipping on SportsCenter rather than attacking the unread pile of them on your bedside table.
But not yet.