Bloody hell, is that the time?

Ouch.
All the best intentions in the world about going to bed early always seem to evaporate early on in the week for me.
Never a good start when, after putting Molly to bed I wake up an hour and a half later on a cold and hard floor. Groggy and with what feels like a giant poker rammed through my lower back

(no, the back isn't better, thanks for asking. Physiotherapist on Friday. Who will no doubt tell me,as the Osteopath and two doctors have before her, that my back is, to use the technical term knackered).

Louise had fallen asleep on the couch downstairs so hadn't been able to remind me to get up.
Coffee. Wake up a little.
Watch 24 series 6 part 2 taped from last night. (More on this tomorrow when I have time and inclination).
Louise goes to bed. I promise to go to bed soon as well.
Coffee.
Channel hopping.
QI. Coffee.
Asleep on couch.
Wake at 1:30am.
And go to bed.

Or that's what I should have done.
That's what sane people do at this hour.
Me, I'm sitting here, replying to emails and blogging.