Getting blocked...

Where I'm from getting blocked has a certain meaning - generally it means going out and consuming a fairly vast amount of alcohol so that you end up in a nicely inebriated state and generally it involves dancing like a complete eejit in a public place.
Or at least that is what it used to mean.
Now it means - for me at least - the inability to write. My fourth book (working title 'Ever After') has stalled at a measly 12,000 words. Now I do have several very good excuses but as each night passes with me staring at a laptop willing the lovely Annie (my MC) into life I get more and more frustrated.
Now, generally when I hit the wall I pour a nice, cold glass of wine - consume it at record speed and find that magically the block lifts. Sure what I write that evening might be a load of carbolics but the effect of actually being able to write something is enough to spur me on to write something more legible and coherent the following evening.
Of course at the moment I don't have the luxury of a bottle of wine at my side. I do however have a variety of prescription medications each and every one of them complete with the warning that they may cause drowsiness.
"If affected do not attempt to drive or operate heavy machinery" they warn - but I think they are missing the crucial adendum "or attempt to write chick lit".

Tonight will be the third night in a row that I'll switch on my laptop, open the file and promise myself to write a little more. It's at quite interesting juncture in the book so in theory is should be easy. In theory.
I promise to report back tomorrow - wish me luck.