The two questions I've been asked most about Australia are:

1) did you meet the Crocodile Hunter (sadly, no, but I did visit his park) and

2) does the water really run the other direction when you flush an Aussie toilet (why yes, yes it does and I'm the kind of person who would watch a toilet flushing just to see if this is so. Oh, be quiet.)

Actually, water being such an issue and all in Oz, crappers there are quite different from any I've seen before. They have two buttons on the top, the left side offering you a demi, the right side giving a full flush, depending on … well, do I HAVE to spell it out for you?

Yes?

Well, herewith is:

Yes, I am the sort of person who is moved to doggerel when it comes to bodily fluids.

Oh, and speaking of bodily fluids (and don't you find that really, you can never hear enough of bodily fluids, especially other people's bodily fluids?) if you find that you have a shortage of mucus in your life, look no further.

It's me.

Yes, all your mucus are belong to me.

It's official. As of this morning, my doctor has confirmed that I have a huge honking case of bronchitis AND I now have the drugs to prove it--antibiotics AND cough syrup that makes me loopy.

Bonus.

If only I'd known there would be psychotropic cough syrup.

See, for the last few days I have been wandering around here in a misery, coughing up various internal body bits, and totally unable to sleep. I hate and fear doctors because I know, deep in my heart, the minute I step into a clinic I'm going to be diagnosed with something like oh, say ebola.

Medically speaking, I LIVE by the notion that ignorance is bliss.

The spousal unit was the one who forced the issue, threw me into the Marnmobile, and frog marched me into my doctor's walk-in clinic. The selfsame clinic where I sat huddled in a chair, trying my best to suppress the body wracking coughs once so fashionable amongst nineteenth century heroines, while those around me subtly edged away.

(Oh yeah, give me one of those trays the food vendors have at sporting events and I could have gone marching up and down the room yelling, "Pestilence, get your fresh, steaming pestilence.")

Fortunately, this appears to be a short term deal. Those of you facing mucus shortages, fear not. Within a week this should all be cleared up and your mucus levels will go back to my pre-bronchitis levels.

No need to thank me, it's all in a day's work, eh.