I was sitting on the couch vaguely playing an online game of Words With Friends and listening to Emmy and her mother out of one ear.
“What sort of dress”, Marty asked.
“A moaning dress, Mom I’m going to that funeral tomorrow for Sia’s’s brother, don’t you remember?”
“I think you mean a mourning dress, not a moaning dress”, Marty said.
“No Mom the funeral is in the afternoon.”