What a perfectly awful day the hump day has become. Why do I tremble when other men rejoice? It’s all in the timing. The Wednesday schedule puts me in my home, ready to relax, at the one hour ’til bedtime mark. What, pray tell, can I do with a lousy hour? In the adult scheme of things, one hour is about as useful as one dollar, one square of toilet paper, or one shoe. I spent ten minutes of this precious hour wandering aimlessly around the house, like someone who lost their puppy. Then I found the one thing that seemed worthy of my time – but it lasts one hour and I only had 50 minutes left.

Oh the humanity.