Saturday evening approximately 7-ish all the adrenaline and sugar and caffeine on which I had been running expired and I crashed. Hard. Could not keep my eyes open. Explained to Pygment that I was going to lie down for a bit. (*)
Slept from 7:15ish to 11:20ish. Woke up and thought "hunh, I should probably try to get up or I'm going to be f-all useless tomorrow." Got downstairs, managed to stay awake for an hour or so. Crawled back into bed around 1ish on the "no, seriously, four hours of sleep is not going to cut it" theory. Lay awake for a while doing my breathing exercises and meditating. Fell asleep eventually. Had messed up dreams and weird subconscious spew waking me up now and then. Finally drag-assed out of bed around 7AM. Best guess is I slept about 9 of those 12 hours.
Sunday night I can't manage to fall asleep until 1, wake up early around 6:40. Seriously? It's like sleep is a skill I've somehow forgotten.
(*) Because we're us and it's a tradition, the dialog goes something like this...
Me: I seriously cannot stay awake. I'm going to nap.
Her: How long should I let you sleep?
Me: Wake me if you need me.
Her: Well then you'd never get ANY sleep.