I ended up with tonsillitis. Again. I seem to get it at least once or twice a year. Which isn't that bad when you compare me to my niece Chiara, who comes down with it on average two weeks after her last course of antibiotics has finished. She almost always has it. So I really can't complain too much but still, it's kind of annoying.
I'm assuming everyone has suffered from tonsillitis before but just in case you haven't, I can tell you it's awful. Apart from the whole 'my throat is on fire and it hurts to swallow/talk/sneeze/breathe' aspect, there's also the lovely combination of fever, utter exhaustion and just general feeling like crapness. Yesterday I went from being so cold (on a 32C day) that I had to soak in a hot bath to getting all hot and sweaty late in the afternoon back to being so cold again that I dressed in my winter flannel jarmies.
Today I have managed the strenuous tasks of having a shower and going to the shop for more Panadol and now I feel like just napping away the entire day.
Unfortunately I can't do that.
For those of you who have Facebook, you'll be aware that my poor little Miss Molly had her own eventful day yesterday at the vet. She had to go and have her teeth cleaned and they were so bad (because her neglectful parents never thought to take her to the doggie dentist before) that she ended up having eight teeth removed. I know, eight! I actually asked the vet if she had any left over. After one of the teeth was removed, they found a suspicious lump in her gum which also had to be removed. Once we recover from this vet bill (almost $800) we can opt to have the lump sent off for testing to see if it's harmless or cancerous.
The surgery went rather well but since she's an old dame now her recovery time has been a little slow. When she was carried out to me, I thought my heart would break. She looked so dejected and miserable (and if I'm honest, downright stoned) that I felt a right cow for putting her through this. She perked up quite well once we got home but she's been very sooky, doesn't want to leave my sight and she's very jumpy. Every time I drop something or make any kind of noise, she jumps a mile and runs and hides under the bed.
To make matters even worse, just before my doctor's appointment yesterday I got a message from Christian saying he was going to have to fly to Melbourne overnight for work. Molly and I were going to have to fend for ourselves it would seem. And considering my poor darling has no opposable thumbs, doesn't even realise that I'm sick and is generally just a dog, the nursing was left entirely up to me. I had to suck it up.
Christian caught an 11pm flight last night, spent only 6 hours in Melbourne and has just gotten back on the plane, which will arrive here at half past one this arvo. He told me he's exhausted and didn't get any sleep on the plane at all. So when he gets home today, he'll be just as tired and grumpy and sorry for himself as Molly and I are.
I promised myself I wouldn't spend this entire post in a self pitying manner and so I shall move on to a more cheerful topic.
I first learned of the worst poet in the world from Boo when she posted on her blog and since then, I have been a fan. When we went to visit her last year, we took great joy in torturing Christian with readings of his poems. I even secretly signed Christian up for a 'gem a day' email, which he hastily canceled before speaking to a divorce lawyer.
What bought Mr McGonagall to the forefront of my thoughts today (surprisingly enough I can go days without even thinking about him or his poems!) was a status update from a guy on FB. I haven't met him IRL but he is friends with Mouse and Boo and so it wasn't long before we friended each other on FB. His status was this little snippet
I made the comment that it sounded vaguely McGonagall-ish and then figured I'd look it up and see. According to this page, because it's bad poetry and it's Scottish a lot of people think McGonagall wrote it but if you really think about it, you'd see that he clearly didn't.
If you're like me and half the time don't bother with links on blogs and whatnot, I'll copy and paste their reasoning here:
'It scans (more-or-less).
It appears to be deliberately comic (however unsuccessfully).
It's written in Scots vernacular, which McGonagall rarely did.
There's no mention of a date, or of an early death!'
The best part about this little discovery however is that they don't just leave it at that but then go on to say that if McGonagall had written the poem, it would probably be something like this:
'Upon the hill there stood a cow
But upon recent viewing I can say that it is not there now
For it died, most unexpectedly, of BSE
On the 29th day of September 1893.'
That just made me laugh and laugh and then go 'Ow, ow, it hurts, it hurts'.
I think however that this is one of my favourite of his poems, mainly because he's pissed that people don't like his poems so he seems to think that the best way to get revenge is to leave Dundee lol
A New Year's Resolution to Leave Dundee.
Welcome! thrice welcome! to the year 1893,
For it is the year I intend to leave Dundee,
Owing to the treatment I receive,
Which does my heart sadly grieve.
Every morning when I go out
The ignorant rabble they do shout
'There goes Mad McGonagall'
In derisive shouts as loud as they can bawl,
And lifts stones and snowballs, throws them at me;
And such actions are shameful to be heard in the city of Dundee.
And I'm ashamed, kind Christians, to confess
That from the Magistrates I can get no redress.
Therefore I have made up my mind in the year of 1893
To leave the ancient City of Dundee,
Because the citizens and me cannot agree.
The reason why? -- because they disrespect me,
Which makes me feel rather discontent.
Therefore to leave them I am bent;
And I will make my arrangements without delay,
And leave Dundee some early day.