My miracle cure whenever I've felt a cold coming on has long been to shoot some Nyquil and retire to bed early. Apparently, this backfires if you have any sort of anxiety on your mind. Last night was such a night for me. In retrospect, it may still have worked if I'd taken more than the recommended dosage. But, as I only took the suggested amount, the anxiety (and the equally restless cat in the bedroom) fought off the Nyquil coma. When I finally did fall asleep, I had an astoundingly realistic nightmare. So realistic, in fact, that when I woke up (crying), it took me several minutes to realize that it had been only a dream. This was a far cry from the pleasantly bizarre fever dreams Nyquil usually induces. It was difficult to get back to sleep after that.
The good news is that, lack of sleep aside, I did seem to stave off the impending cold. The bad news is that I otherwise feel and look like hell. I contemplated staying home from work, but, as I've only been working here 3 months and have already called in sick twice (albeit for legitimate reasons), I decided against it. Sitting here at my desk, a ghostly version of myself (in appearance and demeanor), I am beginning to regret that decision. I only hope I can pull it together to see Andrew for his One-Night Only appearance.