It’s Christmas in May – at least in my head it is

Last week, something awful happened. I got a song stuck in my head and I couldn’t get it out. And this was not just any song. This was a super-annoying song. A song that nobody in their right mind would want rattling around their brain. Yes, it was the song from hell.
And that song was “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas.”
I know, right? Who on earth would let that song invade their brain? I mean, of all the songs on the planet, of all the songs that have been sung since the dawn of time, “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas” is not a song you want playing in your skull.
And yet, it was stuck in my head. Which doesn’t say much for my intelligence, now that I consider it. Especially since I only know two lines to the song and honestly? I don’t even know if they are really lines from the song or just something my brain made up to torture me.
It started Monday. I was innocently doing laundry when the words popped into my head and decided to hang out for a while. So all day Monday and deep into Tuesday, I found myself humming along. And the two lines I pathetically know played over and over on an endless loop in my brain. I don’t think I have to tell you that this was beyond annoying.
By Wednesday, I was singing the two lines out loud in an effort to get them to leave. “I want a hippopotamus for Christmas … only a hippopotamus will do.” I even sang it at the grocery store. I mean, really, really quietly, of course. But still. I wanted that song to be gone because let’s be honest here. It was driving me crazy.
But do you know what? I am a courteous crazy person. For example, even when it was just family around, I did not burst into song and start wailing, “I want a hippopotamus for Christmas … only a hippopotamus will do.” Instead I sang or hummed as low as possible so no one else would be infected by my insanity. Yes, I am a giver.
By Thursday, I had ceased caring if anyone I knew heard me sing the dang song. I sang it at the top of my lungs. In the shower. In the car. I was willing to do anything to get that stupid song out of my head (except sing it in public, of course). I even looked the lyrics up online. I had a theory that maybe, just maybe, if I learned the entire song and sang it out loud, the song would be happy and go on to haunt someone else.
Yeah. That seriously doesn’t work, just so you know.
In fact, learning the entire song made it worse. Because now I had a two-minute ditty stuck inside my noggin and it refused to leave. Apparently, it liked it there. I would have thought the song would die from loneliness as it wandered around my brain all by itself, but sadly, it did not.
I began to consider calling my doctor – but really? Would you want to explain that the song stuck in your head is “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas?” I didn’t think so. I mean, it’s one thing to THINK you are crazy – but it’s a whole different ball of wax to have it confirmed. Am I right, or am I right?
By Friday, Harry and I had to go to San Jose to run errands. Please, let me just assure you that as much as I love my husband, I had to sing that song. Out loud. In the car. The entire way to San Jose.
And have I mentioned that I’m tone deaf? Because I totally am.
By the afternoon, Harry was considering throwing me out of the car. I know this because he said, “if you can’t stop singing, I have to throw you out of the car.” At first I didn’t think he was serious. But when he rolled down my window, I snapped my mouth shut, even though the song kept playing in my pitiful excuse for a brain.
And then it happened. As quickly as it invaded my head, the song left. I don’t know where it went. I don’t know why it went. I only know that come the holidays, the song “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas” will definitely not be on my playlist.