The Duck Hole

I am still here in the stinky apartment. But not for long. I went back and forth with the maintenance people about is there a smell, what is the smell, where is the smell. A Croatian fix-it guy came over and said, "Eye heff a solution for you, surr. Layrn to smowke." And it was so funny that I did not murder him. Finally got one of the managers to set foot in the place and take a good whiff, and as a result, now they're moving me to a different apartment in the same complex. Which is good... I like it here. Except for the smell.

But what we're really going to talk about here is more ducks. There seems to be a duck thing going on here in Utah. Places have ducks. Everywhere you go, ducks. They're ubiquitous. Yeah, I used that word just to use it.
What this place has, however, is much more grandiose than just ducks... this place has a duck hole.

To be fair, I think it used to be a duck pond, and from the presence of the construction equipment, I'd say that it will one day again be a duck pond, but right now it's pretty much a hole. Before I got this picture, there was just dirt, a little bit of stinky green water, and better than thirty duck residents, most of whom were rubber-duckie sized. That was endless fun, watching them go foop foop foop one at a time over the edge of the hole, on the way back from wherever ducks go. Most of them took off when the machines started, but there's this one stalwart piece of work that has camped out right out in the middle of the hole. He's there day and night. I see him on the way to the laundry machines sometimes, and he fixes me with a frosty glare, warning me to stay away.
And I do.