Well, I finally caved. In a matter of hours, I managed to hit the limit of free articles on the New York Times website and so have now been forced to pay for what was once free. Right now it's hard to complain about it -- 99 cents for 4 weeks -- but soon it will go up, in four weeks it will go up, to the equivalent of paper delivery. But since I have been reading the Times for so long, delivered to my door in its blue plastic bag for years, then online when I wanted to save trees, I delayed and delayed but finally opened my wallet just now.
Why was that so hard?
Like pushers handing out free samples, they hooked me with endless clickable information so that now, now that I have to pay for it, even though I hesitated, I couldn't do without. How to go without access to the Science section on Tuesdays or the article that forced me to pay, "You Can Fall Out of Bed and Look Good."
Hooked.
I suppose it was time to pony up, to grow up. After all, last year I finally paid for annual infinite access to Pandora, since I routinely hit my limit there, streaming music in all sorts of wondrous, totally customized combinations to my desktop at my job, my absurd "Everett Junior High" mix getting me through all kinds of workaday blues. Boogie fever forever.
Really when I think about it, though I held out for all of several days, it's not so bad to give my money to the New York Times online. And I can afford it, which is something to be grateful for. It reminds me of a meeting I had long ago with the Financial Aid advisor at The Kid's expensive Waldorf School, where we had benefited from scholarship assistance for several years. She looked me in the eyes and said, in such a kind way that I instantly cried, "You really don't need this help from us anymore." It was true. I hadn't noticed that we'd emerged from the critical fundslessness of earlier years into a much better place where we could, actually, cover the cost. But still, it was a change.
And change is like that. It's change-y.
Takes getting used to.
But I'm over it. Now I can go back to reading whatever the New York Times is serving up online, limitless. There's something delightful about that. I'm trying to stop repeating to myself that that part is not new, I had limitless before, without trading cash for it. I'm trying to be in this moment, where the thing I had before is gone and now I have the thing I have now.
Enough talking. Time to go read about the hottest beauty trend of 2012. Time to feel all limitless and shit for my 25 cents a week.
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