Walking home just now from a pretty, petty party (with the exception of my precious compadres), I caught myself thinking, “God, I’m such a night owl since Trump was elected,” and then immediately laughed out loud. This made me the tall blond woman in a cape and a big fur hat cackling loudly by herself on an empty dark street, but I had that coming. Nowhere in the world does 10:34pm count you as a night owl unless you are a true homebody who is typically already under the covers with a permakitten on her legs and a book on tape spilling cozily into the darkness.