And as was clear last night, I missed the perfect equilibrium. As a result I woke at five, head filled with nonsensical and shameful scary nightmares, all plot related before dozing again for an hour and finding the shimmering pieces of the bad dreams falling like kaleidoscope diamonds into place for the key to the plot I'd been wrestling with for weeks.
In other words, the recycle bin of my brain had been fighting with the smart stuff, and eventually the smart stuff won through. As a result, my creative side is tired exactly when it should be, about nine o'clock, unlike last night where it kept me awake and kept awaking me. The balance is preserved and perfect and I feel sated with expelling words, like the opposite of a good dinner.