Some more questions that seem to float to the surface in the middle of the night:
Is there balm in Gilead? Is it any good for treating sunburn?
Where was Atlas standing when he was holding the world on his shoulders?
Is there any product on shelves in stores that is not new and improved?
If I said “Hubba hubba” to a woman on the street, would she smile, slap my face, or call for the men in the white coats?
Are there couples who have to go to the zoo to say, “This is bigger than both of us”?
Why is it that every time I take the top off a container of ice cream, I lick it and look for a photo of Betty Grable or Roy Rogers?
What kind of person puts toilet paper in place so it rolls from under rather than over the core?
Did Racquel Welch find what Ponce de Leon was looking for or just the address of Phyllis Diller’s surgeon?
Are the publishers of magazines that have those loose subscription cards in them in cahoots with physicians who treat strained backs of patients who have tried to pick the cards up off the floor?
Why is it that the top of my refrigerator is the last place I think to clean and the first place my guests put their hands on to lean against?