Agonized a bit, then dove in, with the aid of Tostito's cheese sauce and chips... with my wife's last words of the night warming my ears: "Maybe you should sleep in the other room when you're done." Ahhhh, the romance of the 14/48 playwright. Laboring in the solitude of night. And gaseous feelings. Indeed, I burn the midnight oil with the comfort of long ago realized mediocrity my only friend.
I'm wired. I'm burping something that tastes yellow.
I think I'll try to sleep. Maybe I'll dream up a better play!!!