I have that song “Come on, Come on” by the Von Bondies stuck in my head. They sing “come on, come on” after just about every line. Which now means it follows every thought I have. “I wonder what I can eat for breakfast. Come on, come on. Maybe some cereal. Come on, come on.” It can be rather frustrating.
Dad went to see a goat farmer about a feeding through (for goats). I guess Mom went with him and Bev is probably still asleep. So there is no one here at the moment except me and the cereal. Come on, come on.