It’s just before 10 a.m., and I should be tired. Exhausted, even. But I’m not.
I woke up about 16 hours ago, and worked for 11 of them. I returned home an hour ago, ate dinner and got ready for bed. But right now, the sunlight is bouncing off the walls of my apartment, warming the chill of my unit that still lingers from last night. I slid my windows up and open before I walked out my door at 8 last night, and I’m thankful I did. The cold is refreshing.
Last night was an unusual night at work in that I stepped out from behind my standing desk and its four screens — equipped with internal CMS programs, Chartbeat, analytics software, Tweetdeck, emails, Slack chats, cable news, etc. — and hopped into the passenger seat of a pool car, shadowing a Chicago Tribune overnight reporter for an almost 11-hour overnight shift spent following gunshot victims, making midnight calls to public information officers, chatting with witnesses and drinking plenty of coffee.










