I feel triply honored to share this post from Jessie. One, because Jessie is a dear friend, two, because Jessie is one of the first readers of this lil blog, and three, because I successfully nudged her into writing about this. I was complaining about my ducks not being a row, on a rough day, and this lesson blossomed from her brain and blessed my day. I hope it blesses yours, too.
“I’m trying to get my ducks in a row.” you say.
But the ducks don’t line up.
The thing is, ducks, real ducks, do line up. They travel in lines, organizing themselves into cute, neat little rows as they travel from one place to the next. They may be noisy, they may leave literal trails of shit behind them, but by god, they do rows.
Problem ducks line up too. Issues resolving themselves one after another until you’ve gone from one day to the next. Those problems may resolve in a whirlwind of noisy shit, but rows they make.
Problem ducks that don’t line up, problem ducks that will just *not* get into rows, I don’t think they are ducks.
I think they are problem chickens.
Chickens, real chickens, don’t line up. Chickens are modern dinosaurs that leave a trail of breakfast and chaos in their wake.
Chickens never, ever, make rows.
Unless they are sleeping.
A sleepy chicken requires only the smallest of incentives, for example a nice perch, to get in a row with it’s neighbor chicken.
So perhaps, if you can’t get your ducks in a row, you are dealing with chickens.
And the only way to get chickens in a row, is to get some sleep.
“I’m trying to get my ducks in a row,” you say, “but they just won’t line up.”
I say, take a nap, just in case they are chickens.
I had considered cleaning up my language here but Ivy recently pointed out to me that I only swear when I am:
A: Really tired
B: Really angry
or C: Explaining something.
I thought this was ridiculous until it was repeatedly proven true and, as I’m explaining something here, I will let it stand.