While we were in Jamaica, I thought of the Banana Boat Song not at all, which is odd since it’s classic and Jamaican and we indulged in more than a drink of rum. (We were also doing quite a bit of the work all day — Holly has tallied the group result at two novels, plotting and outlining for two more, a short story written, and several other short stories started — plus, a proposal thing was finished in addition to all that, I believe.)

But, beginning at the airport, I now can think of no other song. I hum it, and sing a few bars, and I’m pretty sure it’s holed up deep in my ear canal, like seawater in some other people‘s. I guess the only thing to be done is add Beetlejuice to the Netflix queue.

*With apologies to Maureen; I just couldn’t help myself.

3 thoughts on “Ear(gasm*)”

  1. That’s not an Eargasm! In fact, now I’m trying to think of how to get out of this post without 1. outing the two guys I know who stick Q Tips in their ears to clean them and close their eyes in ecstasy and 2. getting “The Banana Boat” song stuck in my head, which is an Earworm. And a nasty one.

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