Midnight in the garden of gray and wrinkled

The other night I met a friend of mine for a drink. We were supposed to talk about writing, and we did, but mostly we ended up goofing off, drinking beer at a dive-y bar. Hubs was home and the conversation with my gal pal was just what I needed after a long week at home with two sick kids. After what seemed like an hour, I looked at my phone, and somehow it was after midnight.

I caught the last train home to the 'burbs and made it to bed at 1:30. I was right back up at 6 to make breakfast, and my tongue felt like a metal spoon coated with cat hair. I was fine, but really tired and, yeah, I'm too old to hang out after midnight on a school night. Long day with the three year old on less than five hours of sleep.

Really, I should just stay home and read. Except that every time I pick up a book lately, I get this pavlovian response from my sleep training (read a book in bed to relax), so I'm out like a light.

Too old to stay out. Too old to stay in and read.

What else is there?