m i a o w


Smack the Pony

I have entered the Pony phase of my illness. This is the fourth day of Hell, identifiable by my inability to lower my head (jabbing, screaming sinus pain), my continued inability to breathe through both nostrils at once and my new vocal persona – Madge from Neighbours. Last night I briefly lost the ability to breathe through any nostril and, of course, it had to happen as I was gargling Listerine. I tend to wander as I gargle, so when I established I couldn’t breathe through my formerly dependable nose, I began staggering and frothing my way, eyes to to the newly painted ceiling, toward the sink. Hideous.

Thus I awoke this morning determined to feel improved. Since I completely exhausted myself yesterday in my efforts to get us back to Melbourne, I had confidently assumed some good karma would be in order. No. I awoke to that phenomenon that is getting increasingly familiar – the hot tent awakening. This is when, in South East Queensland, you sleep in past 7:30am and then wake perspiring moistly. All that was missing was the smell of toasting canvas – but I can get that by just turning on my little fan that has the melted cord. Coupled with my head full of snot that seems to be closely related to a meteorite (in that there’s not much of it, but it’s so heavy that I feel like my head has a gravitational pull toward the floor), my hot tent awakening did not bode well for a day of wonder and delight.

There. Two whole paragraphs that whine. Getting back to the Pony phase. It sounds like this:

M: Would you like some Weetbix?
B: No.
M: Would you like a grapefruit?
B: No. No. No. And I shan’t eat. I shan’t ever eat again. And I asked you to saddle up my Pony. You ought to have done it at once. You know I only have one operating nostril. I want to ride my Pony. I shall ride it and ride it in circles until it is sick. SICK I tell you. And then when it’s not paying attention I will boil one of it’s hooves into glue. And you shall find a use for the glue. You shall. You shall.
M: You’re delirious. We don’t have a Pony.
B: I was speaking metaphorically.


Drip Drip Drip Drip Drip


Postcards from the Edge


  1. Rae

    Wow… you poor thing. I hope you are putting your feet up and staying away from hard work.
    And stay away from ponys – they can kick 😉

  2. Well…am still trying to work. It’s hard to do nothing when we’re both beginning to panic about NEVER getting out of Queensland. But every so often I just go and lay on the floor.

  3. Dennis

    Please forward to M.

    Get six lemons (or maybe 10 of your bush lemons).

    Bring a large pot of water to the boil.

    Juice the lemons, put the juice aside.

    Throw the juiceless husks into your pot of boiling water.

    Boil for about 20 minutes.

    Allow to cool – while cooling add a decent swig of cooking vodka.

    Add the previously extracted lemon juice.

    When cool enough to drink, feed to B.

  4. Ren

    Oh ack. I hope you’re on the mend SOON.

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