I knew very well that if I went downstairs, it would be after midnight before I came back up, so in the end I decided that sleep took priority. The muse threw something of a tantrum and said, "Fine! If you won't go write this stuff down, I won't let you sleep either! So NYAH!" but my body was more forceful on the subject, having only had a fitful and unsatisfying 6 hours of sleep (including the dreams I commented on yesterday) the night before.
The problem is, if you go to bed with an annoyed subconscious, you doom yourself to another night of fitful and unsatisfying sleep, which is exactly what I had, waking up with yet another headache. And today, when I tried to recall as much as I could from my somnambulent creative burst, all I got was the first line.
My muse can be a spoiled punk when it wants to.