Ted is dreaming a lovely dream, about a day without a name. Because a really good summer vacation should only really have two days: the first, and the last. All the ones in between should be nameless, it shouldn’t matter if it’s Tuesday or Sunday. In a good summer, everything is all just bicycles and comic books and salt water, time being wasted with the sun on your face. One or two small farts, one or two little giggles.
