Okay, first? Click here to read about the mystery dead duck I found at 2am in my bedroom last week. Because last night we solved the mystery. And live-tweeted a crafting night that will not soon be forgotten. This is why twitter exists:
So here’s what I’m thinking: Last year when I was on book tour I’d always come home with a suitcase full of long-dead gifted taxidermy and crocheted penises and haunted dolls and severed limbs and sometimes when I’m unpacking I don’t always have the energy to find a good place for these things and that’s why sometimes Victor opens a drawer and finds a unicorn horn or a bag of raccoon penises, but I suspect when I was unpacking all the drawers were full so I probably tucked the duckling in the fake flowers on my nightstand until I could find a safe place for her and then forgot she was there for a year until she fell out.
It’s anticlimactic, but so is life.
Maybe “anticlimactic” isn’t the right word. I’m not a good judge of these things.