I don’t travel much, but over the last month I found myself on a few flights to a few cities staying in a few different hotels.

When you check-in, some hotels still ask you if you want a paper in the morning. I usually say no, but this time I said yes.

For a few years now I’ve stayed away from the ritual of news. And especially many-times-a-day news. I find hourly/by-the-minute news toxic, sensational, and downright unhealthy. I feel significantly better not being under constant siege. And we’re all under siege these days. No matter what side you’re on, there’s another side attacking you. Ah but you say you’re not on a side! Well then you have every side attacking you! How dare you not have an opinion on something!

Me… I’m perfectly OK not paying attention to what’s going on in the world. I used to pay incredibly close attention. Now I pay very little. I can tell you this: I feel better today than I used to. What’s all the information for if it makes you stressed, sick, and angry? Sure, it may fuel you to make a change, but let’s be honest — the information to make-a-change ratio is tiny for most of us.

Anyway, so back to my recent hotel stays. I got a newspaper instead. And it reminded me of something.

The news is best consumed in gaps. A paper is printed in the morning, you read it in the morning, and then you generally put it away. It’s not something you return to. It’s done. That’s perfect. That’s enough.

Nothing’s going to happen until the next morning that you need to know before tomorrow. Yes, even that super important breaking news story about this person or that person going to jail, this new threat of war, this scandal or that one. It can all wait until the next morning — or, better yet, never. A true emergency — an impending tsunami, a wildfire, missiles raining down — that’s the only thing worth hearing about now. And you’ll hear about that. People will be screaming.

Once a day is enough for the news. And that’s why I’m starting to like the paper again. The paper isn’t only a medium, it’s a period of time during the day. The paper is a moment. It’s a hassle to lug around, and it’s disposable. It’s easy to leave it somewhere, or toss it aside. These are features! Try that with your phone.

Yes, you could browse the news once a day on your phone, but who does that really? The phone is an invitation to be attacked. The phone is an onslaught. The paper can only stare back at you. Your tech can physically tap your leg, your butt, or your wrist. And if you don’t hear that, it can whistle at you until you stop ignoring it. What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into?