My wall of jasmine lines my front yard to my door. There is no sweeter greeting than this sweet fragrance.

I breathe deeply, and suddenly the soaking wet paper in my hand doesn't irritate me--or at least until I get inside.

Once inside I speculate how the paper ends up in the range of the sprinklers that are running in the early morning as the paper is delivered. Though I am not sure what is worse because on the days it isn't wet, it is beneath my Suburban which requires a child's retrieval  (luckily I have children handy).  A conspiracy theory crosses my mind, and at this point, I realize I have had enough.

Suddenly an electronic paper seems like a good option...but then the kids can't fight over the comics!  I settled on a call to the paper.  In the back of mind, I am worried where my paper will be in the morning?  The roof?

When I am old, I want to sit in the quiet of the morning next to the jasmine vines with my cup of tea and read the paper...wherever that may be...