For the whole day I walked around thinking his name was GEORGE Letterman because I couldn’t, for the life of me, remember his real name.
“I think I have a brain tumor,” I told my husband.
“No, you’re just tired,” he said. “I still can’t think of the name of that thing that floats—”
“A floatation device?” I volunteered.
“No. It’s kind of like a tent?”
“No. It’s made out of the same material as a tent.”
After TEN MORE MINUTES of this, we finally arrived at the word Raft.
We need sleep.