As I said, there is one mirror in this farmhouse.
What that mirror reflects is an image of myself, naturally.
When I awoke this morning I decided to comb my mane, which I hadn’t done for a little while.
All this talk about keeping up appearances and yet my mane is messy.
The mirror also reflects an image of my mother now and again.
As I combed my mane, in fact.
For a tiny instant—perhaps the time it would take Filly Second to run a mile in those comic books Spike loved—I had seen my mother looking back at me.
I assume as I age this will continue to occur.
Hopefully I will not wish to comb my mane into a beehive.
But quite suddenly I no longer feel like typing any more.
I have not been typing, for a few hours.
All I decided to do, eventually, was go to Ponyville and get water from the dam, instead of the stream.
After that I wandered through the town for a while.
I used some zap apple jam jars to carry the water in.
I had left them loaded in my cart while I trotted around Ponyville, and when I returned to Sweet Apple Acres I noted with dismay that I had forgotten the cart at the dam.
I will have to go back to Ponyville to get my water.
Not that I mind, particularly.
I just realized that I have technically dressed two villains: Discord in his suit and Queen Chrysalis in the wedding gown intended for Princess Cadence.
I previously said that Nightmare Moon was the best dressed enemy, but I think my wedding dress was better.
Ergo, Chrysalis was the best dressed villain we faced.
I hope it is not too egotistical to prefer my own creations over others.
After all, one has to have confidence in one’s own abilities.
Although I remember that occasionally my pride would be misplaced.
Once I had declared an awful-looking dragon disguise as one of my better creations, and it was simply not.
After the royal wedding I had another spike in business, similar to when Sapphire Shores wore my outfits on her tour.
Mainly I received orders for wedding dresses, which kept me very busy.
And once again mailponies flew every which way bearing bundles from the hub that was the Ponyville post office.
Many moons ago I travelled to the Changeling Empire.
However, I did not stay long.
This was due to the overwhelming sense that I was being watched there.
This feeling grew as time went on, and I had gotten very little sleep there as a result.
Which in turn fueled my paranoia.
I considered that the changelings could transform into inanimate objects, and the idea scared me.
After all, how was I to know whether they could or couldn’t change into objects?
In fact, I still don’t know.
Perhaps I am typing this using a changeling typewriter on changeling paper. Perhaps when I finish writing this the text will shimmer and a changeling will appear, transforming my words into flesh.
Though I consider this so unlikely that its chance of being true is basically zero.
When I was in the Changeling Empire I knew that those fears were unlikely, too.
Nonetheless I became unnerved, and came back to Equestria soon after I crossed the border.
That was a difficult journey, considering that I stayed for such a short amount of time.
The ardors of adventure soon begin to wear on one.
Even if one has only been to a fraction of the places in Equestria.
When I was in the Changeling Empire I noticed that apart from the bug and slime motif that most of the buildings had, everything looked normal.
For example, in the town I had been in there was a post office, or what looked like it.
Surely there were some changelings who didn’t want to fight when the battle for Canterlot occurred.
Perhaps there was a fashionable changeling who sold dresses there.
Surely some changelings wanted nothing more than to post their letters as per normal.
Although, come to think of it, if they survived by feeding on love then perhaps they were all loveless and vile creatures.
I hope not. That would be a wretched existence.
I was very fortunate to love and be loved, I think.
I just smiled as I thought of what Spike would say if he heard me saying that.
Probably he would ask me when I had become so sappy.
Then again, he always seemed to bite his tongue when I was around—doubtless because of his crush.
Yes, I certainly knew that he had a thing for me.
So perhaps instead of deriding my sappiness he would just smile and agree.
I wonder if he really minded how I had gotten him to help me.
After all, I did use him as a pin cushion once, even though I doubtless had actual pin cushions at hoof.
Though, come to think about it, it was Spike’s idea to do that, after he had been bragging about his scales.
Can’t feel a thing, he had said, as he pushed the pins into his little body.
I was somewhat disturbed by this at first, but he seemed so happy that I couldn’t help but smile.
Big Mac’s bedroom upstairs has become dank and mildrew-infested.
This has occurred after rain blew in through the window that I had forgotten to shut.
As I said, it sporadically rains, and I had been asleep.
When I awoke, I noticed that the fetlock I had injured was throbbing, but by then the rains had ended.
I have left the window open to air out the room, but the damage had been done, unfortunately.
My copy of Daring Do and the Griffon’s Goblet, which I had left near the windowsill, had been drenched, and was soggy.
When I went to pick the novel up, some of the pages slopped out onto the floor.
Basically it was unreadable.
I was very upset by the way the words all ran together and became nothing.
It reminded me of Twilight complaining after some parasprites had eaten the words off the pages of her books.
She had held one up to me, waving the blank sheets, and asked how she could possibly read the text now.
Some of those books had been rare, and the information could have been lost forever.
This was after she had sent a letter to Celestia warning her about the parasprites in Phillydelphia.
I believe Celestia was on her way there because of a similar disaster.
Of course, I was also brooding because of all the damage the parasprites had caused to my shop.
Sometimes in the beginning when I left messages I wrote using a nonsense language of my own creation.
Of course, they could not be read by other ponies, which was supposedly their purpose.
As I have said, I was not quite in a healthy state of mind then.
I also once took the time to etch my message into the pavement outside Donut Joe’s shop with a chisel.
I think I didn’t write that one in my own, untranslatable language, though I can’t be sure, not having the message here.
Some time ago when I was wandering through the Everfree I accidentally stumbled into a patch of poison joke.
A few hours later my mane and pelt had become shaggy and tangled.
This made movement difficult, especially through the dense forest where I would have to go.
I mean I would have to go to Zecora’s hut to find the cure.
Of course, I had to then brew the cure from a recipe found in her book—Super Naturals, it is called.
I am no potion brewer, but I made the cure satisfactorily.
The bath I had then, in contrast to the spa bath, was lovely.
I could feel the tangles shrinking and dissolving in the warm water.
Stumbling into poison joke had been a distressing experience, but sitting in the bath almost made it a good one.
I’ve learned to cling to such gems.
Of course, these events can only be so comforting.
In Big Mac’s room I have noticed guides to several of the local wildlife preserves and forests. As well as one to the birds of southern Equestria.
Although it seems obvious to me now, I never considered before that he would be interested in bird watching.
It seems strange that I didn’t know that, considering we were both in a quartet, the Ponytones, together.
Still, he was a very quiet sort.
Maybe even more quiet than Fluttershy, though he was much more comfortable around other ponies.
I also found detailed maps of the bayous near Ponyville.
I think that he often delivered apples to those swamps.
There are some sections on the maps that are completely excised with black felt-tip.
And others that say Do Not Go, with doodles of pony skulls.
He was a fine baritone.
My cart has been showing signs of wear.
One of the wheels will break soon, I think.
Of course, I can repair wheels with my magic, generally.
As in the time I repaired a taxicab’s wheel in Manehattan.
There is a jack in the cart, in any event.
Then again I suspect I took it out the last time I had gone to town.
I have just walked out to the cart.
Actually, the jack was there. After that I went to the river and refilled a jar with water.
The water in the river is always cool.
In the Changeling Empire I had occasionally heard rustling wings.
I think that is the partly the reason why I was so unnerved by that place.
Now, of course, there is the flapping pennant, but that is not an unnerving sound.
And I can take it down if it becomes unnerving, anyway.