My calendar informs me "Daylight savings time ends" on Sunday. But perhaps it should say "energy savings time ends." The practice of collectively setting our clocks forward and back was adopted in the U.S. in 1918—another pandemic year—to help conserve power during World War I. It was unpopular and then repealed, only to be re-instituted for World War II. In 1966, Congress established the pattern of time zones and seasonal changes that the U.S. observes today. These are human constructs designed to deal with something far beyond our control: our fixed position on a rotating Earth.

This season, I'm preoccupied with another kind of darkness falling and feeling a different loss of control. My personal calendar shorthand for Tuesday might as well be "Democracy saving time ends." I know this is melodramatic and reductive—after all, the United States has never been a true democracy, and the fight to make it so will continue no matter what happens on Tuesday. Still, I am compelled to say it one more time: Vote.

The human cost of Trump's four years in power. Rebecca Traister on the protest movement that sprang up in the wake of Trump because no authorities were coming to save us, and Dahlia Lithwick on "the creeping cynicism that comes with this kind of powerlessness." An ICU nurse on the everyday brutalities of hospital work right now. The pandemic has drained savings accounts and left millions of households to decide: rent or food? "I remember being more proud of receiving my first paycheck than getting good grades." How the Trump administration turned the already-broken U.S. asylum system into a machine of unchecked cruelty. It's time to talk about coronavirus and surfaces again. On motherhood as a kind of annihilation. An oral history of Barbara Kruger's "Your body is a battleground." When travel influencers meet authoritarian regimes. RIP Cecilia Chiang, who brought authentic Chinese cooking to America. New York is dead—long live New York! My scarecrow, myself. How America invented the white woman who just loves fall. Why we open our doors on Halloween. What was fun?

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Catch These Ink Stained Hands, a poem by Taz Ahmed. Yves Klein and leaping into the void. Ancient music. Codependent, a web series about three women in Philadelphia. Ole White Sugah Daddy, a play by Obehi Janice about a Black woman who can't seem to get her startup funded until she meets an older white male investor. Lovely photos of people reading.

Spooky season indeed.

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Pumpkin dance man brings me joy every single year. Why do I love it so much? Nostalgia for a different era of the internet, maybe. But part of it is just that he's... not a "good dancer." Just doing cheesy wedding-dance moves with joy and abandon. My friend Mercedes recently recommended the therapeutic effects of closing the door, turning off the lights, putting on a song you love, and dancing with the wildness that only a lack of observation can bring out in you. In other words, a very literal dancing on my own moment. "I'm right over here, why can't you see me?" Oh right, because I turned the lights off and closed the door!! That's the idea.

Related endorsements: Pony Sweat, four people dancing alone, Yoko Ono' "Bad Dancer," Elaine, a quality solo kitchen dance, dancing alone underwater, a Carole King moment, woman dancing alone at Disneyland, Tayla Parx's Dance Alone.

Tonight! Aminatou and I will be discussing Big Friendship with journalist Nana aba Duncan, sponsored by the Toronto Public Library. 7pm ET. It's free! Register here.

Thanks to everyone who joined me this week to phonebank for Sister District. It feels so good to break up my election anxiety and work alongside other people who care about creating a better set of conditions for this country. Sister District makes it easy with training and support the whole time. There are many more opportunities to phonebank between now and Tuesday—I really recommend it.