Last night, the Golden Globes paid homage to an age-old custom: Sunday as a time for relaxation.

The event was exhausting. Just a few moments into the ceremony celebrating the top films and TV shows of the year, I felt the urge to call it a night.

Rather than counting sheep, we found ourselves counting the number of disinterested celebrities.

Their expressions mirrored my own, stuck in a perpetual state of indifference. For once, I felt a sense of relatability.

In the realm of formulaic award shows, the Globes weren’t a complete disaster. Remember the Jo Koy fiasco? Yet, a cup of chamomile tea and a dose of melatonin seemed like a more efficient use of time.

The lethargy wasn’t the fault of host Nikki Glaser, who was funny, lacerating and likable. CBS should keep her on for as long as she wants.

The ace roaster’s opening monologue included some truly biting digs — including a Jeffrey Epstein bit that managed to stop the show.

“There are so many A-listers here,” she said. “And by A-list I do mean ‘A list that has been heavily redacted.’”

Then, like everybody always does, she chided “One Battle After Another” lead Leonardo DiCaprio for his ever-lengthening resume of young girlfriends.

But there was more to the crack than an easy jab.

“I’m sorry I made that joke,” she said, seeming to apologize. “It was so cheap. But we don’t know anything else about you, man!”

Hysterical. But that’s 10 minutes of laughs over a more-than-three-hour broadcast. When the prizes themselves kicked off, the event flatlined like a heart monitor from “The Pitt.”

You could palpably feel the toll the overlong award season has taken on the winners. They spoke like frozen zombies about to attack Westeros.

Who can blame them?

TV winners like Jean Smart (“Hacks”), Noah Wyle (“The Pitt”) and Owen Cooper (“Adolescence”) get a major award practically every month. “The Studio” won again. “The Pitt” won again.

At the ceremony once famed for outrageous drunken behavior — the anti-Oscars — everyone seemed jetlagged and over it, even as the producers weirdly played unrelated upbeat pop, disco and hip-hop songs.

Presenters walked out to “Shake Your Groove Thing,” “APT” and Outkast’s “So Fresh, So Clean.”

Correction: So slow, so long.

Another excitement killer was that a sense of inevitability set in almost immediately.

As soon as “One Battle After Another,” Paul Thomas Anderson’s politically tinged action epic, won supporting actress (Teyana Taylor) and screenplay, it was obvious the film was going all the way.

Lo and behold, it did. “One Battle” also snagged best motion picture — musical or comedy and director. Its road to the Academy Awards will involve no battling — merely showing up.

The night’s drama winner “Hamnet,” shattering though it is, doesn’t really have a shot.  

A mere 90 minutes in, the hottest race of the night, best actor in a motion picture — musical or comedy, was already over.

First-time winner Timothée Chalamet (“Marty Supreme”) rightly beat DiCaprio, Ethan Hawke (“Blue Moon”), George Clooney (“Jay Kelly”) and Michael B. Jordan (“Sinners”). Timmy surely Chal take the Oscar, too.

So will the transcendent Jessie Buckley, who won best actress – drama for playing a grieving mother in “Hamnet.” Rose Byrne is fantastic in “If I Had Legs I’d Kick You,” but the indie is too weird for the academy.

By the way, when “Hamnet,” in which a child dies, won best drama, these geniuses insanely blared the song “Celebration.”  

Another curious production choice the telecast made — and we can always rely on the Globes to add some stupid thing that doesn’t work — was having Variety’s Marc Malkin and ET’s Kevin Frazier irritatingly chatter between categories and when stars were taking the stage. Mute!

Give that duo the ax pronto.

The never-ending trophy tour is far from over. Still to come are the Actor (SAG) Awards, the BAFTAs and finally the Oscars. One snooze after another.