It's a blessing and a curse in our family. We hum or sing aloud if we're not careful, and it doesn't matter where we are. As a kid, I used to subtly (I thought) remind my mother not to break into song in J.C. Penney's or in the stall of a the public restroom. Now I do it, and although so far I've managed to limit myself to a dignified hum, I know my genetics. It's only a matter of time until I'm singing golden oldies in full voice as I stroll the malls and sidewalks of America.
There is always a song in my head, and I seldom get to choose which one it is. I sometimes remember songs that I've only heard once in my life, and I don't even have to like them. There's a Favorites playlist, comfortable but somewhat shop-worn, and there are a few that simply won't go away once they've taken over my brain waves. A few are embarrassing: George Michael's "I Want Your Sex" is a frequent visitor, and no, I really don't, thank you anyway.
My sister's is "Baby Bumblebee," and I hope she isn't reading this because she won't be able to resist it now that I've brought it up. She takes delight sometimes in starting her co-workers off on a song, humming or singing a few bars and then waiting for them to pick it up without being aware they're doing it. My grandfather made up his own tunes, and there were no words, just "dee, de, dee, de, dee" all day. My dad's were all slightly naughty (but nothing like modern naughy), and my son's are apparenly rapped instead of sung. It doesn't matter; we all have them, for better or for worse.
I wonder what people without a song have in their heads. My husband has building plans, and I think they're even three-dimensional. It's obvious that some people have practically nothing, and others have vendettas, complaints, and plots. I most dislike those who have a critical tally of what others are wearing; you see it in their eyes as they check you out from head to toe. I guess if the brain has to have something to work on when it's not in Drive, a song isn't such a bad thing. And I'll try to keep it to myself.