I can look through the peephole in my door and see the doors of eight units on my floor of our condo building. When Peter and I moved in 4.5 years ago, there were newspapers in front of five of the doors every morning. Now, there are only two. That doesn’t mean my neighbors don’t read newspapers; it means they are reading the news online.
I start every day with stretches. My reward? Coffee and a newspaper that I hold in my hands. And now that it’s just me, I get to start with the front page.
I fear that the day is coming when there will be no more hard copies of newspapers delivered.
Good news for trees; bad news for my breakfast.