A couple of other residents are sitting next to me in the shelter early in the day, with their daughter between them. The daughter tries to take a selfie of the three of them but can't reach forward far enough to get the shot right. I stand and offer to take the photo. She hands me the phone. I frame the shot as well as I can and shoot two stills. The mother looks at the result. "Beautiful. That's what you get when your photo is taken by a real film director."

A few hours later, one little boy in the shelter tries to show another how he can drop from standing up to sitting cross-legged on the floor in a single movement. The second boy can't quite do it. I see the problem before they do: the soles of his sneakers have better traction than the first boy's boots. His feet won't slide under him to either side quite as easily.

A data scientist has analyzed the patterns of alerts and alarms in various cities, to see when "prime time" is for assaults in each. Here in Herzliya, there's an unusual double-peak pattern: we tend to get alerts at about 6 PM, perhaps timed to mess up rush-hour travel. But we also have another peak at about 1 PM.

I know that we get a lot of alerts in the middle of the night and early morning, but they may be scattered enough to different hours that they don't add up to much statistically. It still feels like the groups throwing missiles at us are being as chaotic as they can, to leave as many of us sleepless and jittery as possible. It may not work militarily, though: our pilots are known to be taking pills that can keep them awake and alert for more than 24 hours at a time. (Yes, it does feel like we're living in an early military science fiction novel.)

Our city's Educational-Developmental Psychological Service is offering free Zoom calls to parents and their children who are dealing with stress and anxiety. There's a form online to sign up. People can also call the city hotline, 106, to set it up over the phone.

Meanwhile, the Cinematheque is continuing its series of rock-related movies. Tonight, they're showing "Labyrinth" with David Bowie. The new Elvis Presley concert film opens on Thursday.

At about 8 PM, I'm in the elevator on the way down to the shelter with two women from down the hall. I say something in English, since both understand it. One of them repeats it in Hebrew anyway, then says, "Sorry, I just do that automatically. It's like in 1967, in the Six Day War, when I would translate everything that I heard in Hebrew on the radio to Hungarian for my mother, then translate anything that she said back to Hebrew for other people in the room."

I'm one of the first people out of the shelter when my Home Front Command app gives the all-clear -- although almost half the people, mostly neighbors from outside, have already left without waiting for the notification. When I get into the hallway, the worker from the front desk is standing there. "Did you get the signal?" I show him that I had. A moment later, his own phone beeps the all-clear. He sprints to the front desk to make the announcement on the overhead system.

I go back to my room. I think of changing into my sleeping clothes, but don't. Whether it's statistically probable or not, I feel like staying ready for the next alert.