Well, really, I want to worry it. I want to take temperatures and make sure that the meat is still completely covered and just see what's happening in the pot that's living in our up-to-now-unused oven. It's cooking, see, and the waiting's the thing. Six to ten hours of it. Six to ten hours of anticipation bordering on impatience. First times are hard.
On some level, I know that once this is finished - even if the duck is tough and stringy or otherwise thoroughly unpalatable - I'll eventually become comfortable enough with this as I have brewing or curing bacon or anything else I've been tinkering with. The funny thing, the thing that has me going "huh" as I'm in the middle of this, is that I am able to let it happen. The familiar assumptions that I'm doing it all wrong are still there, but I'm doing it. One step at a time, I'm doing it.
You have no idea.