I’m lucky; I still drop right off. But I wake up in the middle of the night, set off by a noise or the creak of the house settling, and sometimes, more and more often, I’m awake for hours.
Between 3:30 and 4 a.m. Monday morning, I was wide awake. I heard the beetling street sweeper off in the distance, chewing its slow path along the side streets.
I try to think about inconsequential things; at least, I try to think about things I have no real hand in. If I think about work or finances or the jobs I’ve agreed to do, it’s just a recipe for staying awake.
Sometimes, I plan clapboarding or trimming out windows, because it’s different and practical. Sometimes, I think about a stone wall for some future herb garden. Last night, for some reason, it ended up being a different wall.
For some reason, it was U.S. President Donald Trump’s much-ballyhooed border wall with Mexico, a wall that Trump has suggested will be as much as 50 feet high and one that he has insisted the Mexican government will pay for.
And suddenly, in the night, it struck me that even Donald Trump doesn’t really believe that there will be a wall — and maybe he never did.
Comments from Trump on a flight to Paris last week make it all more far-fetched.