I feel like shit right now, thanks to a head cold that started to rear its ugly head this morning. The cold medicine has pretty much left me feeling spacy, but that's ok because I got four more pages typed this evening on the story that won't die. If Gordon Merrick wasn't already dead, I'd kill him just for providing the seed that has blossomed into this never-ending melodrama. *sighs* It doesn't help that I'm really horny right now, and the only one I know who'd be willing to help me remedy the situation is already in bed. Although I did tell him that the rather explicit scene I wrote last night what what I want for my birthday. If he can actually deliver, I'll be amazed. I really should go to bed again, but I'm not all that tired right now.