If I wake in the night —morning actually—and lie down again without waking my brain (hence a dim night light), then I can sleep again. But if I think, especially if I think about THE BOOK or about MONEY, then my stomach starts to ache and I can’t sleep any more. I guess it’s my fault.

I never seem to get my passwords right and “they” won’t let me in. That’s after I wake up, like now, sitting here with my laptop and scribble notes and tea, making up more passwords because “they” say I’m not strong enough and I keep telling “them” I’m not a robot. (Traffic lights here.)

It’s a never-ending dialogue.

I wish I were a Luddite.

Or twelve years old.

Did I tell you my next book is going to be a memoir of my first twelve years? i’m looking forward to it, not thinking, just writing.

I used to think it would be handy if a lifetime password were tattooed on a baby’s heel at birth, to be added to. As the child grows so does the heel. But there are too many variables. It wouldn’t work. And I can hardly see to trim my toenails; I could never read my heel. And time wounds all heels.

So it would never work.

I’m going back to bed.