I am apparently a duck. The universe has confirmed this fact for me this week.

Exhibit A: My friend Danny says I have always reminded him of Daffy Duck.

Exhibit B: Today my wife and I went for a walk at a local track. In the snow. Like idiots.

As we trudged around the track, we eventually came upon our own footprints. Ours were the only footprints on the track, after all, as the track was covered in snow, and only idiots walk on the track in the snow.

Upon examining our footprints, it became readily apparent that Becki walks like a normal person, while I walk like a duck. I am duck-footed. Becki’s footsteps were all parallel. Mine were slanted outward at crazy, cockeyed angles that suggested I might be comfortable with the names Donald or Daffy or Count Duckula.

This is especially funny, as Becki has always identified with Ducky from the animated film, The Land Before Time. If anyone is a duck, it should be Becki. But apparently, I am the ducky one. Who knows what animal she is? A wildebeest? A whooping crane? I have always compared her to a lop-eared bunny, as she has a very demure demeanor. Who knows though. I mean, really.

All I know is, I am a duck.