We are going crazy from all the snow and slush.
Proof of my madness?
This disturbingly realistic hallucination I had the other day, completely unaided by drugs.
First, I dreamed that a toddler-sized duck rode into my room in a little red wagon full of balls.
Next, we waddled over to my makeup case, flung its contents on the floor, harming several items in the process, and commanded me to sit cross-legged on the linoleum, which I did.
First, he ripped the lid off my blush and applied it very firmly to my cheeks, neck, and most of my forehead.
Then he smeared himself with mascara and took a moment to admire his work.
I took a moment to admire his pudgy little duck hands.
He thought some mascara smears would help my cheekbones stand out, and he used his thumb to jab my moles for good measure.
He took advantage of the crayon-like appearance of my beat up old Neutrogena concealer stick and drew beige lines all over my nose, eyes, and upper lip.
In the end, he pronounced me passable, but said my skin looked dry, to which I replied, "Stop eating my moisturizer."
He said, "Quack, quack," and departed as quickly as he materialized.