Yesterday, I texted Brady and I Cher that I had brown dog.
Or course I meant brain fog.
But I typed it bad enough that my phone changed it to brown dog.
It really just proved my point.
Then, in the afternoon, I pulled an iced coffee out of the fridge, added cream, and went to stir it.
But I grabbed a fork instead.
I laughed at myself and said something along the lines of “Foot the pork back.”
Because I had brown dog.
Still do.
Anyway.
