So, this is the post I planned to write yesterday, detailing to you the magnificent details of the latest issue of Newsweek. I fully anticipated a 1960's theme and lots of Mad Men glitz to take over my afternoon, causing me to drool into the crevices of the very keyboard that I'm using to type to you all right now.
Well, those plans, as far as—you know, working out and everything—they changed a little.
Weather-wise, yesterday was gorgeous (again). I wanted my copy of Newsweek, so I decided to just walk to a nearby drug store to get a copy. Seventy-nine degrees, sunny, and crosswalks. Very doable.
Well, I got to the drug store, and they didn't have it. Okay, not a huge deal; I was getting some exercise, and it was only the first store on the list. Attempt number two: stop by the gas station on the way back.
No. The gas station didn't sell any magazines at all. What kind of convenience store sells snacks and liquor but doesn't have any reading material? Okay—they had a few newspapers, but I'm not counting those.
So, I walked back to the house and hopped into the ol' automobile, navigating myself to another nameless drug store (that may or may not start with a "C" and end with an "S"). No Newsweek there, either. But rest assured--if you're ever in a pinch and need a Fantasy Baseball issue of Beckett, you know where to go.
By this point, I was getting a little annoyed. I whipped out my trusty iPhone, searching Google and Waze for any book store at all that may serve my magazine fix. Turns out that since Borders closed last summer, there are no real book stores left in town, and the nearest Barnes and Noble is a trip down the interstate and at least 20 minutes away. Forget that. I headed to to try my luck.
At Kroger, I briefly skimmed the cash register news stands before heading to the magazine section in the middle of the store. My eyes darted left and right, searching for those white block letters encased in the all-too-familiar red title box. Then, I found it right there in front of me. Newsweek. With some big-headed guy named Dave looking up at me. It wasn't the right issue.
What the heck, Kroger?!
For a minute, I thought that maybe the Mad Men issue wasn't supposed to debut until next week...or worse, maybe I had missed it entirely. I resorted back to my lifeline of a phone and double-checked. Yep, March 19. I wasn't crazy—some people just didn't know to switch out old magazines, apparently.
I left that insane mecca they call a grocery store and went even further down the road to . Target's got a good magazine selection—they should have it, right?
Heh. Foiled again.
It was then that I realized I might have to give in and drive to another town to find this needle in a haystack. So, I went to Northville (since it's the nearest town that doesn't give me a headache when I think of driving to it), and went to the only bookstore that showed up on my GPS. One shelf of random, non-Newsweek magazines and a shot-in-the-dark attempt at another CVS, and I was done. I had already used up the rest of the gas fumes that were left in my car, it was hot outside, and I was tired. Time to go home.
Never mind the fact that my phone died while I was driving and I'm still not great at navigating from town to town—the trip home, in rush hour traffic, took more than twice as long as usual.
Finally at home, I took a little rest, and soon got a call from my husband about dinner. We decided on spaghetti, and since it would be quicker for me to swing by the store, I headed back into that crazy mess of an afternoon to find some ground beef. I went to Wal-Mart this time, using the trip as an excuse for one last effort at finding my coveted Newsweek.
Okay. Let me see if you can guess where this is going.
Two different issues of Newsweek resided in Wal-Mart's magazine section: one from last week, and one from the week before. Someone was playing a very cruel joke on me.
And that, my friends, is called a sign. In other words, it was time to give up.
Of course, I understand that not every store carries Newsweek, or that Kroger and Wal-Mart may not have had the opportunity to re-stock their shelves, or maybe even Newsweek was running a little behind on their deliveries this week. I get it. But maybe next time, I'll assume that a March 19 on-sale date means...anything other than March 19. Or that retailers underestimate their consumers' demands for intelligent magazines.
Or maybe...just maybe...I'm not crazy, and I really should be able to find a high-profile magazine the day it goes on sale in a major metropolitan area. And maybe we still have a few uses for all those bookstores that are closing down, after all.