Senior staffers I’ve never formally met raise their hands like fifth graders when I ask who’d like a set. Everyone takes out their drug of choice—Sonata or Xanax or Ambien—and in that place between awake and unconscious, the forced, awkward intimacy with colleagues is suddenly just funny and bizarre. I mean, you’re having a sleepover with your boss, your boss’s boss, and a ton of other people you can’t fathom seeing in their pajamas, even as they stand before you in their pajamas asking you to pass them a pillow. POTUS passes through wearing all black, and it’s like being in third grade and
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