There are days when you have some alone time in the car, and you spend it having deep, intellectual conversations with your dashboard about evolution, the nobility of humanity, and advancing civilization.
And then there are days when you have some alone time in the car, and you spend it trying to pronounce “Herman’s Hermits.” Out loud. By yourself.
And you come home and climb out of the car feeling foolish because 1) You’re sane enough to know how off-the-charts loony repeating “Herman’s Hermits” out loud alone in the car actually is, and 2) You can’t do it. It always comes out “Herman’s Herbits,” no matter how many times you say it.
It’s been a bickery moppet, long to-do list, forehead-meets-keyboard kind of day. So the inability to pronounce “Herman’s Hermits” is an ironically fitting end to it.
Herman’s Herbits. Herman’s Herbits. Herman’s Herbits.
Oh, well. Maybe tomorrow.