The morning after the night before

I really don't do well eating late. I spend a restless night trying to sleep whilst my insides try to pulverise, shake, filter and liquify my dinner. It's very distressing. Even feather quilts and a happy, purring cat by my side don't help. I simply toss and turn and have weird dreams. Last night we had great company, great conversations, nice wine and a real wind-down at the end of a busy week. I just wish it had started two hours earlier and finished early enough for my stomach to work its way through the various digestion programmes. I really don't like the "final spin" when I'm horizontal.