Mortification in two parts

I got to work this morning a colleague said she could hear my music from several feet away. Several feet! It was so loud and clear that she “could sing along.”

Oh, God. I listen to music on the way to work, and to me it is just “medium-loud” — I would actually like it a lot louder, but it’s as high as it can go. (This should have been a hint.)

(Some readers will know that have poor hearing. It’s not really obvious as I speechread and the hearing aids help a great deal. But I can’t hear whispering with them in — which makes for interesting times in meetings. Without them, I can barely hear anything at all and I need to remind myself to keep my “inside voice” on. This can make for even more interesting situations.)

Now I am thinking that I must be driving the people on the streetcar crazy.

They probably hate me. Here’s that middle-aged woman blasting music again. Sure teens do it — but adults on the way to their serious job?

So the rudeness and sound pollution is embarrassing enough, but I have not even mentioned the playlist. Today it included:

• I Touch Myself — Divinyls
• Don’t Stop Believing — Journey
• Is She Really Going Out With Him — Joe Jackson
• Crimson and Clover Joan Jett & the Blackhearts
• Any Way You Want It — Journey
• Glory Days — Bruce Springsteen
• We Built This City — Starship

Oh God — middle-aged and pedestrian — not the image I wish to project. Well, that was today’s image.

Some days I don’t listen to music at all. For example, I like Dan Savage’s Savage Love podcast and listen to that fairly often as well.

Yeah, you got it. People can hear me listening to advice about orgasms, BDSM, sounding, monogamish couples – you get the picture. No topic is taboo.

Oh, boy. I am changing my route tomorrow.