I have a little thing for ducks. I have a huge collection.
Eric gets a little freaked out about it. While he is showering, he go for some soap, and he’ll suddenly notice about 15 little pairs of eyes staring at him. Watching him shower. Sizing him up.
On the plus side, we have been saving water like a mother.
Anyway, I have a duck on my balcony. His name is Pete The Ever Vigilant. He likes to watch the traffic go by.
Why is my duck obsession newsworthy of my comic/blog? Well because I need to record what Eric has told me in the event that he ever goes back on what he has just promised:
When we buy a house, with a basement – he will buy me a real duck. Like, a quack quack REAL LIVE DUCK!
Excuse me while I start stashing away cash to save for a house with a basement. If the duck is a boy, he will be named Pete II – this time it’s personally Vigilant and if it’s a girl Tutta.
Tutta is a perfectly respectable name for a duck. A female duck. And and and when I go visit my duck I can do the Egyptian dance and sing Tutta Tutta Tutta at the top of my lungs, for she is named after King Tut.
(Jameson – not one word about orange sauce. NOT. ONE. WORD.)
I will let you know when I have acquired my duck. LET THE COUNTDOWN BEGIN!
In other news...
Dude, smell me!
It is a rare occasion when I actually want someone to smell me because I smell so heinous.
Today was the exception, however. Both Eric and I have slept total of 26 hours over the past two days and have sweated enough to warrant 3 showers while I was awake.
I imagine that my neighbors are walking down the hall, and suddenly stop, pull their shirts over their faces and exclaim, “Jesus, who is boiling a baby to death in piss!” BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT IT SMELLS LIKE.
And the smell! It smelled like I was covered in 15 day old piss. I can only image what my house smells like to outsiders!