Misery, woe and essays

Not a great way to start my blogging introduction, but I am ill; I have some Godawful flu-like virus, and I feel like shite. My lungs are screaming for antibiotics, and I just want to cry.
I can't even take to my bed and feebly cry out, "Tea...Mummy needs fluids" because
a)my teenage sons wouldn't hear my croaks above the blasting of Metallica coming from their room, and
b) I have stories to write. Stories that should have been finished by now, I might add. Stories that live in my head but refuse to be transmitted to paper.
Feeling sorry for me yet? Damn!
We have a twelve point story structure to follow, and I need to compose parts one and two. Now. I have the plan, and the characters. I can even hear the dialogue in the head, but actually that could just be the result of a high temperature... yet the words won't come.
I give up; I'm going back to bed, pulling the duvet over my head and refusing to move until Friday. I think I may have man-flu...