I've reached that stage of tiredness where, if I do not lay down my head upon my pillow, I will start to see pink elephants dancing with suddenly sentient and horribly chipper furniture. My eyes are slowly falling shut, my ability to type has decreased, meaning that I'm having to triple check my spelling, and yet I'm not shutting down my internet windows and ascending the stairs to steel springed Nirvana, because theres an episode of the West Wing on right now and I cannot leave the TV until it is done with. And then I will have to scan a pop art picture for little sister's project, all the while trying to resist that sweet sweet call emanating from my duvet.
I am like the walking incoherent dead, only my sustenance does not run away screaming as if they haven't seen it a thousand times on the silver screen (actually, more like the lounging incoherent dead, accompanied by a mentally deficient cat).
A bit peckish now. I wonder if there are any brains left.....