I have a problem with magazines. I love them. Food magazines, gardening magazines, decorating magazines, travel magazines - almost anything with a pretty picture on the cover. There are only a handful that I subscribe to; I have had a little bit of self control there. (After all, the mailman must not find out my secret!)
At least once a week, I spend my lunch hour at the bookstore. It's quiet and cool, and somehow I just feel safe and cozy when I'm standing in between the tall shelves of books. I don't eat out often, so I figure that buying a magazine or two every once in a while is a (more than) fair trade. I can stop and get a coffee or an iced tea (and sometimes a red velvet cupcake!) to take back to work with me. And somehow that always is a bright spot in my day.
I keep my magazines longer than I probably should (shouldn't share this, but I have a few from the 90's). I rarely throw them away (I couldn't bear it!); I take them to work to share, or drop them off at the hospital, or give them to charity. But before I do, I do go through them and pull out the pictures and articles that I love. I have a couple folders full of those clippings and I love sitting down and looking at them from time to time.
My friends would never believe that I have as many magazines as I do. I am rather organized and have "places" for everything. (I am MFS after all.)
There are those that appeal to the practical, domestic side of me,
and those that inspire me to be a better person in one way or another,
and those that bring out the romantic in me.
Then there are a few that are just too beautiful to part with. Even the paper feels special.
They can, sometimes, serve a purpose too. Getting down on the floor with scissors and glue and letting the creative juices flow is very therapeutic.
So . . . Hi, my name is Janet and I'm a magazine addict.