the air that carries over

I notice an excitment about writing at night. First of all, the night does seem a little longer if I plan to write after dinner; it's like: there's a whole world after dinner! Whereas when I used to write in the morning, I used to rush doing my dishes, scamper to my room, check the clock to see if I've got time to read before tiring myself out by eleven in order to sleep and wake at five next morning. None of that now. I go on till 12:34am. And since I get a ride to work next morning, I can steal a few minutes of reading before I bury myself to bed. Though by then (or even by now), my head's a little jumbly, and if I scribble in my journal before I sleep, I might end up exhausting the last bit of 'air' that could save me from having tired eyes next morning if I chose to get straight to bed and sleep, lights out, right away.