3am and I can barely stagger my way toward the computer. Not a touch of any alocholic or narcotic substances, excluding stacks and stacks of science papers exploring the mysterious identities of rhesus macaques and sheep and penguins and bottlenose dolphins and syrian golden hamsters.
Oh, I used to waltz myself through 1and 2 and 3 and 4 am with razorclarity and unmatched grace--well, maybe not grace, but flair. Yes, flair. I find now that midnight has passed, and I have become the squishy inert and unweildy substance of a pumpkin.
To new rhythms and glass slippers, leCHAIM!