Actually, the past fourteen days' worth of earworms, as I didn't do the previous week's. You do know that this is an evil plot to foist my earworms on you?
Only if you know the song, I guess.
Anyway, starting with the week of the 10th, I was still "hearing" "I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm." Thank goodness it's the Billie Holiday version and not some insipid junk you hear all over the radio during the Christmas season.
It was joined, for some reason, by Elton John's "Daniel." I don't know why. I didn't hear it anywhere; it just popped up, which is normal for me. Having once gotten into early Elton John territory, it was only natural that Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters made its presence known. Good thing I like those songs, that's all I can say.
I made the mistake of watching Coal Miner's Daughter one night when I couldn't find anything else to watch on TV. Not that it's a bad movie, far from it, but with my affliction, you just know that I'd have country music songs plaguing me afterwards. And so it is. And I don't like country music, most of it, anyway. Too bad--"You're Lookin' at Country" and "Back in Baby's Arms" are with me yet. Not done by Loretta Lynn and Patsy Cline, respectively, but by Sissy Spacek and Beverly d'Angelo. Sigh. Oh well, at least I'm a Patsy Cline fan ... and who can help but think of John Candy and Steve Martin in Trains, Planes, and Automobiles when they hear "Back in Baby's Arms"?
But I have a confession to make. Not only do I have earworms, but from time to time, I actually hear music that isn't there. I've concluded that a combination of sounds gets interpreted by my brain as music. Sometimes in the shower I'll hear a chorus of voices, but usually I hear 40's big band music, for some reason. (James says it's because I heard it in the womb!) I mean, it's not like earworms, where it's just playing in your head. It's actually hearing it, even though you know it's not really there. No, I'm not psychotic. I can't explain why this happens from time to time. It's not scary or even annoying; it's just there. I just think (or say, if James is around), "Oh, there's the music again. This time it's jazz."
Maybe in my next life I'll be a musician.