Sigh. There. I said it out loud. I admit it, to myself and the world. I am a hummer. (Meaning a person who hums, not the GM built, military, vehicle.)
I have become one of those people who subconsciously hums. Have you ever been somewhere and heard random humming? And it’s annoying? That’s me. I am that annoying person. But I don’t want to be.
When I think of people who hum to themselves, I think of a little, old, senile lady, sitting in her rocking chair, stroking her cat, humming an eerily sweet tune. (The cat, by the way, is dead and stuffed. Her well-meaning nephew never told his elderly aunt that the cat died, but rather took it to a taxidermist and she never knew the difference.)
Do you know who else hums? Ax murderers. Ax murderers hum. OK, I don’t think I have ever met an ax murderer (or have I?), but I have an image of a psychotic man hunched over a grinder, sharpening his ax, fixated on his next victim, all the while HUMMING!
And that weird philosophy professor from college! He hummed!
See why I am ashamed to admit to myself that I hum? I don’t want to be counted among these type of people.
I have a couple of theories. I used to sing a lot. Sometimes, that can annoy people. Perhaps, I tried to quit my singing habit, but the music just couldn’t be silenced and came out as humming. Or maybe, because of my poor memory and inability to properly remember the lyrics, I just started humming. I can’t remember why or when it happened, but I became a hummer.
I vow, to try to curtail my annoying humming, and let it out only when I am alone. However, if you are in the grocery store and hear an irritating, wordless tune and find that it is coming from me, please give me a subtle nudge of the elbow so I can come to my senses and censor myself.
And please don’t worry, friends. I own neither an ax, nor a cat.