I'm sorry, what's your real name?

This past week I've been participating in a trial competition which has consumed my life. Today I'm just a zombie and haven't thought much about it, but from Sunday until last night (Wed. very, very late) it has taken over my thoughts, awake and sleeping (which is why I am a zombie now). Nancy (aka Leslie Kingston, EMT) and Laura (aka Carey Wrigley, widow) got to be witnesses so they got to experience part of the joy of memorizing a name and life story of people who don't really exist. And personality. And everything. I can't even explain how it has taken over. During classes I've been super engaged in all semester I have to pull myself back to reality because I realize I've drifted off on thoughts of a new argument or what the EMTs were thinking, or something. [please note, the names of all the witnesses were names that could be either gender]
But the worst moment came on Wednesday morning. Tuesday night was first round and I found out early Wed. morning that I'd made it to the next round. Which was that night. At 8:00 a.m. I went to my piano lesson (I don't think I ever told you that I did finally start lessons). I forgot to pay my teacher last time (my first official lesson, though I'd met with him once) so I pulled out my checkbook to do so. And I sat there. And sat there. I felt panicky. I looked for a life line. Finally I realized I had no options. You can't write a check without a name. And you can't write a check to a fake person. So I asked, "I'm sorry I feel really bad but I can't remember your name. I want to call you Carey Wrigley but I know that's not right." He was very nice, told me, and later wished me luck on the trial (I had explained the problem). But I was mortified. And still am to a certain extent. I'm so immersed in a make believe story I can't even remember real people's names. How embarrassing.
Oh, and stay tuned for further embarrassment related to this silly trial.