It was Houston, the ’80s and ’90s. I would be alone because my second wife would be at work by that hour. I think she and I lasted so long, almost 20 years, because we saw one another so rarely.
She worked days, and I worked nights. We even had separate bedrooms so I would not bother her hitting the sack in the middle of the night bringing a faint hint of Boodles gin, and she wouldn’t bug me with her rising and dressing at dawn.
We said hi mostly on weekends.
So there I would sit every weekday morning around 10. I would have hot instant, and I would read the newspaper, which was The Wall Street Journal. I subscribed because it’s a sensational newspaper, much more than business.
Since I moved below the Rio Bravo 12 years ago, I have not subscribed to a newspaper. I don’t think subscriptions are even available down here. You buy newspapers at newsstands like in the old-time movies.
You don’t even buy them from news racks because there are no news racks. News racks would get ripped off in a nanosecond.
So I’ve been getting morning news from the internet, primarily from Yahoo. Most newspapers have websites now, and some are good. My old buddy, The Wall Street Journal, has a superlative website, but only a small part is free.
The print version, not available where I live, of course, is very pricy. The online version is only somewhat less so, and I am a tightwad sort of guy.
But I have surrendered and subscribed, and it’s like Old Home Week here on the second floor of the Hacienda every morning near dawn.
I am smart again. The coffee is still hot but better because it’s not instant. The view through the window is improved — the Sierra, not my suburban neighbor.
My snazzy office chair is nicer than the wing. And I am not alone because my child bride is downstairs baking cake, and I can say hi whenever it suits me.