3.

Newspaper

Today marks day 4 of adulthood. I’ve been resisting it for years, refusing to let my sense of self age beyond 18. But then, four days ago, I started getting the newspaper delivered to my house. And I started reading it, cup of coffee in hand.

When I wake up in the morning and open the front blinds, it’s out there, marking my house as an adult house. This morning I tried to drink tea with the paper, but it just wasn’t right—has to be coffee, at least this first week. Sometimes I sit on the floor and spread the paper out on the coffee table. Once I sat outside, paper spread all around me, Milo playing catch with his new tuxedoed chicken squeaky toy. I haven’t really learned how to navigate the paper, mostly I’m skimming and nodding my head thoughtfully from time-to-time. With the Sacramento Bee I would go straight to the crossword (the local one, never that New York Times beast of a puzzle). But I’m not sure what to do with the Arizona Daily Star. Sure, I’m look for tidbits that will make me more conversationally interesting, and sure I’m sort of in it for the “Oh, did you see _____ in the paper this morning?” moments. But I’m also trying to find ways into Tucson, ways to live more fully in this place. I feel like I’ve had a crush on this city for a long time and haven’t done anything about it. I did a good job of living in New Hampshire, of throwing myself into that place and loving it with all my guts. I could do a better job with Tucson—I mean seriously, I live in a purple house.

The thing I might be most excited about is the fact that Abe Froman’s cage will now be lined with newspaper, which means that when I leave for the day or go to sleep at night, Abe will slip into his very small tweed coat, recline against his tunnel, and read about the day’s events, musing over foreign policy and correcting my mistakes on the crossword.