The rather enervant situation of being in the mood to write something, with a tinge of tiredness that is just that little bit too prominent for it to be considered wise to actually sally forth and write something.

That, and having Jeeves and Wooster books on the bed, winking up at me enticingly. Sad thing is, whatever I decide to do, something is going to have to wait until tomorrow.

Zut alors et merde ensemble!