Quiet town.

I have decided that the quietest day of the year is New Year's Day. At least in my town.

I was walking little hundred-pound lapdog Nipper at 6:30 a.m. yesterday, and there was no one around at all, not on the streets, in their cars, with lights on in their homes, no one and nowhere. It was like the plague had hit.

Sunday mornings are very quiet, but there are usually a few people heading in to work or going to church or the gym or for bagels. Nothing like that on January 1.

Of course, there are fewer hangovers on a random Sunday morning, too. New Year's is amateur night, famously, when people who never drink might have a something-tini and wind up with a splitting head the next morning.

Even for those whose alcohol consumption is modest or nonexistent, New Year's obliges them to stay up to midnight, ensuring they will sleep in the next day. I was the same, but I went off to bed at 12:05. "Happy new year! Okay, good night!"

The dogs stay on their schedule, and so must I. I did try to keep them up late on Tuesday so they'd sleep in a little, but it didn't work. So, we were on our regular walk/feed schedule Wednesday, even though the whole town was asleep like Whoville on Christmas Eve.

I did fall asleep in the afternoon and was out for two hours, though.

The National Sleep Foundation reports that "roughly 30 percent of the general population complains of sleep disruption, and approximately 10 percent have associated symptoms of daytime functional impairment consistent with the diagnosis of insomnia." So I did my bit to help make the stats better in 2020.

Party Animal: The Next Day

I hope you're having a lovely new year so far. That nap was the best thing that happened to me to this point.