ducks

Sometimes I like my former husband. Especially those moments he makes me laugh so hard I attractively spew coffee through my nose. This morning we were driving away from the office of our corporate tax attorney and there were two ducks waddling across the road. He stomped on the brakes and swerved to miss them, muttering something under his breath.

I glanced at him with what I am sure was a very funny look on my face and he said, “I do everything in my power to miss ducks.”

I waited for the response.

“When we were married, I was late to work and in a bad mood one morning,” (I avoided the obvious comment from the peanut gallery here.)

“There was a duck crossing the road and I sped up to scare it, thinking it would fly away. It didn’t. I hit it. I felt horrible. Then, when I got to work, there were literally fifteen ducks lined up in front of the entrance and they would NOT let me through the door. Seriously! Every time I stepped toward them they squawked and snapped at me. I think they heard I had hit their friend and they had rallied together to torture me. They made me ten minutes late to work. So, yeah. I avoid the ducks now. And dogs. And cats. And skunks.”

Lots of coffee-boogers on that story.

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