UP RESTLESS at 4:00. It’s not the worst thing. Years ago Larry King’s radio show was on till 5:00. It was so good. There was nothing else like it then. No podcasts. Some nights if his guest was a good one you’d wish you could keep yourself awake all night. Talk radio obsessed people like me felt that way anyway.

EARLY TO BED. Reading Seymour Hersh’s memoir ‘Reporter’. If you like to read about investigations and governments and newspaper workings, this is one for you. I read it before. I read it last year, in coffee shops, and in local libraries, and on subway trains. Now here I am lying under a weighted blanket I got for Christmas.

READING LATE. Too late. But am wound-up from watching two episodes of the The Last Dance the ESPN Michael Jordan/Bulls documentary which is nothin’ but net.

EARLY SUNDAY MORNING in bed. The building is totally quiet. Normally I’d hear the Times land with a slapping noise in front of my door at 6:00. Now they leave it on a long folding table in the lobby.