It’s quarter after 11 p.m. on a Monday and you’re kind of drunk after drinking some wine while immersing yourself in “Wife Swap” or “Trading Spouses” or whatever followed by a nice, solid hour of teen drama on “Everwood.”

Well, now that I’ve just haphazardly slapped on some anti-wrinkle/aging bullshit $10/oz. cream I suppose I ought to call it a night.