It's true. People talk about being sleep-deprived and shell-shocked, like they've just been released from Camp X-Ray, but in fact it appears to be far more than straightforward exhaustion that makes simple 'To Do' lists seem like impossibly Herculean tasks when the stork has just dropped its payload.
What I think is happening is that time is actually folding in on itself. Like a bad episode of Sapphire and Steel, every popper on the sleepsuit and every wipe of a cotton ball causes another rift in the space-time continuum, turning 10.00 am, for example, into 3.00 pm. Ancillary effects include an inability to remember who visited you at any point in the last 12 hours and tendency to confuse your meal moments into a singular nutritional melange.
So there you go. For those of you about to drop, we salute you, and remember: you're not tired and emotional, it's just that someone is mucking around with the clocks.
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