The Flesh is Willing, but the Spirit is Weak

You know when it's rather late and you've been stretched under your quilt for an expanse of time and your limbs are heavy and your eyes are more comfortable closed than open but your mind is spinning and zipping and generally misbehaving, and you know that it's no use trying to force yourself to sleep because, for better or for worse, you're on?

Well, it's no use: I'm on.

Now, if you'll excuse me, having said that, it's back to the dark of my bed. I'm going to attempt to be off.