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Lately I’ve noticed that I tend to sing a wordless tune over and over. Mostly when I’m in the shower, but also sometimes when I’m doing a mindless chore. I’ll sing the same repetitive tune until I’m slightly out of breath, have annoyed the shit out of myself, or both. At that point I usually talk myself out of doing it anymore, the gist of my self-talk being, “Why are you spazzing yourself out on purpose? Relax.” (Yes, I frequently talk to myself. Don’t judge.)

It makes me wonder if I have a touch of the OCD. I don’t count things, nor do I obsessively wash my hands or avoid sidewalk cracks like Jack Nicholson’s character in As Good As It Gets, but still. This stupid singing thing.

It also happens with earworms. I’ll get a song stuck in my head for months. Some are repeat offenders, like the theme of The Great Space Coaster. Get on board! I barely even watched the damn show when I was a kid.

Of course, this could just be me being a hypochondriac. Ever since my cancer diagnosis, little things like this, which wouldn’t even be a blip on my radar before, give me pause. The cancer snuck up on me like a mugger in a dark alley, so now I kind of don’t trust myself. My body rather spectacularly turned against me, the traitor.

In your travels, if you happen to run across a middle-aged woman singing The Great Space Coaster, that would most likely be me. Be sure to say hi, okay?

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