The Return of the Ducks

2020 hasn’t exactly been our year. Yet. Maybe things will change.

(Insert huge rolling-on-the-floor-laughing gif here. Imagine one. Any gif with mass hysteria will fit.)

Realistically, though, we’ll likely be stuck with the upheaval from a dozen arenas worldwide, and the news cycles will not settle until this time next summer.

I’ve been taking some time to realign our family’s new reality with the very shaky reality outside our walls.

Namely, I’ve no day job to structure my days around. That’s been interesting. And a little terrifying from a “what now?” standpoint.

Appointments and events that were canceled are gearing up for some modified version of rescheduling from social stuff to doctor-ish happenings. My pretty spiral-bound calendar for 2020 ain’t so pretty looking anymore. Scratch out, rewrite, remove, and erase.


And how do you plan a vacation or anniversary celebration when you’re unsure which cities will be “open” and “safe” and which state parks will be overrun with those who can’t do their typical vacations in said cities. Yes, I’m likely over-thinking this one, but I don’t want to bring home the virus nor do I want to dodge thousands of protesters, peaceful or not, when I’m trying to relax. I’d rather stay hunkered between the surrounding cornfields with the cats if that’s to be the case.

Then there are those blasted ducks. The ones that left, went webbed-feet-up, left for brighter and bluer ponds, and that one that waddled drunk in the daffodils. They’re slowly coming back. There may be a goose in the mix, but we’ll deal with him later.

On one hand, it feels good. I’m quite accustomed to the disorder that disorderly fowls create. That feels normal.

On the other hand, I know there’s that one dumb duck that’ll always be off-kilter, doing as it pleases with no regard for schedules or timing, and generally driving me insane.

Such is life.

At any rate, I’ve taken time to realign my writing “ducks” into bite-sized goals. I’ve begun the process of publishing some of my short stories into collections. Those will be done by end of summer, hopefully.

Accountability is also big issue for me now. I don’t have that external weekly deadline from the writing challenge to keep me on track. I’ll likely play around on the Facebook feed with some sort of “word count of the week” update. Just so some imaginary person out there will see it and go “Yay. She’s writing.”

And that will make Little Miss Muse, the drunk duck, the new goose, and me very happy.

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