I wanted to like ''Lost'' more tonight than I did. Part of that is my weariness with Charlie's lost-puppy saga -- the big wet eyes, the whole please-love-me thing. (Of course, Charlie's need for affection fit nicely with the blossoming of other relationships among the survivors -- and gosh, would it be nice to see Hurley find a little love.) But part of it may also be that I'm just tired, so tired in fact that I'm going to save my recording of ''Veronica Mars'' for tomorrow.
Don't you hate it when you've waited all day, or all week, for a show -- and then your brain and body just won't let you enjoy it? That's why I'm saving ''Veronica.'' I can't clear my head from another UPN/WB/CW column I wrote for tomorrow's Beacon Journal, and a speech I had to cover, which was less than enthralling, so I made sure to ask the speaker afterwards about some things that might have made the story more interesting.
Or not. I wasn't crazy about the way the story turned out.
Then I've been trying to get my brain in shape for the DVD column I have to write in the morning -- not only about ''Hill Street Blues'' but ''All-American Girl,'' the Margaret Cho series, which comes with some of the most ambivalent commentary you're likely to hear on a TV show. And there have been some non-job projects adding to the schedule and sapping the energy.
So, to sleep. The world will look better, or clearer, or something in the morning. And I know people who had a harder day, and a harder night, than mine. So I hope they're finding at least a little peace in the sleeping hours, too.