This morning, Mr. Shakespeare chased me around the house with a dead duck.

I’m still not quite sure what surprised me most while I leaned against the bathroom door and shrilled at him to leave me alone:

• The fact that the lock in my bathroom is upside down.
• The fact that I suddenly recalled how to say "bastard" in three languages.
• The fact that I really do scream like a girl.
• The fact that there was a DEAD duck in my house.
• Or the fact that I really did marry a cold-blooded killer just because he had a pretty face and a tight ass, principles be damned.

I hate hunting season.