This week, I’m sorry to say that I was forced to physically go into the newsroom. Lunch was provided, so it wasn’t all bad.

I would also make my way into the news booth to discuss a story with our midday anchor.

This was the day the Dallas County district attorney resigned. I went in to tell Chelsea I was headed to the courthouse but had left messages with the local Republican party chair and was waiting for a statement from the governor’s office, who would appoint her replacement.

Naturally, this discussion would lead to Sherpas.

Listen, everyone, I apparently have a rich history with Sherpas. After my car crash, when two wires in my brain were touching that shouldn’t be, people lovingly relay stories about how I’d go through phases where I was racist. During this period, I apparently had a real problem with Sherpas. I swear that’s what people tell me.

In real life, I’m not racist. Sherpas are perfectly welcome to guide me to wherever is convenient.

During this discussion in the news booth, our afternoon anchor, Eric Bushman, would make his way in. He heard the tail end of our conversation about Sherpas and, naturally again, thought we were talking about sherbet.

Here’s the thing, though: Bushman pronounced it “sher-BERT” with a second “R,” which led to an audible gasp of exasperation from me. I’d like to thank Turkey Hill Dairy for taking up this important issue.

Bushman would then ask what, exactly, is the difference between sher-BERT and sorbet. I nodded thoughtfully and pondered the question. Meanwhile, Chelsea was probably trying to finish her shift and, you know, read the news.

Journalists use words for a living, so there’s a lot of grunting when someone calls a suspect a “male” instead of a “man” or uses “municipality” instead of “city.” Who says “municipality” in real life?! City planners, that’s who. And you don’t want to get mixed up with those guys, or you’ll go on a bender and start building light rail lines all over the place.

The three of us in the news booth get along fine, but we still have issues with each other, like when the three biggest poindexters on the American League All-Star team argue about high-level performance issues in their trade, like how much tape to put around the handle of their bat, probably.

Chelsea would eventually start reading the news again, so I made my way into another booth to talk to our producer and start yelling at her over the intercom.

Later, though, Chelsea and I would revisit this Sherpa situation. We agreed that, in a perfect world, we’d recall what led our discussion to veer from the Dallas County district attorney’s resignation to Sherpas. In a perfect world.

But [and look off longingly into the distance as you read the rest of this sentence] ours is not a perfect world. I was determined, though, to get to the bottom of Sherbert-Gate.

Some other website will explain that sherbet has gone by many names, and that may be why different people pronounce it differently.

This is the exact amount of analysis that’s appropriate for how to pronounce the name of a dessert. I would like to add that Bushman, Chelsea and I have won quite a few awards for excellence in journalism.

In fact, this isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with a frozen dessert in the interest of journalism. When Blue Bell started returning to stores last year, the right thing to do was hold Blue Bell accountable by eating a bowl of Cookies n Cream.

In conclusion, it turns out sherbet and sorbet are quite similar. I shall now make it my life’s quest to replace “sor-BAY” with “sor-bert.”