The bad: this cold is definitely getting worse. That suggestion of NyQuil and whisky is sounding better all the time.

The good: having dithered around the scene I'm writing, I recently realized that the reason I wasn't getting it written was I had it structured wrong. So now I can move forward.

The ugly: have you seen me with a cold?

So: leaving work soon, will pick up gallon jug of NyQuil, but first I had better run out to the barn and make sure Mitzi is suffering no ill effects from tripping over her own feet last night. Usually I am the clumsy one.