It's not the earworms you know that bother me as much as the earworms you're not aware of - the ones that lurk, hidden, waiting to leap up when it's least expected. Earworms that have laid dormant for years...
We were driving the other day. Wet. Gloomy. January. The only snow left in the rain laid in the low spots and shadows. We wound around a wiggly secondary road on are way after some pattern cabinets. A lady had purchased them when the local fabric store had closed, and now her surviving son was clearing the estate. We drove further into rural Pennsylvanistan until we dipped down toward a group of buildings near a bulging stream. The green sign with it's white boarder spelled out C-h-i-c-o-r-a, and I couldn't help myself. My lips moved before my internal editor could stop them.
Chi-chi-chi-cora... is what escaped, and suddenly the dim sogginess lifted and we laughed and laughed our way into town.
