The most irritating thing about having this song stuck in my head is not that I then end up with the general experience of watching the film Con-Air, which would be trying enough. It is that I cannot escape the knowledge that there were two recordings in popular circulation at the time — performed by Trisha Yearwood and LeAnn Rimes — and I have no idea which is which. I could never keep them straight at the time, and I certainly cannot do so after the lapse of years. I know I shouldn’t care, but I am me; I can’t help caring.
And I am becoming a hummer, which makes these little episodes more troubling than when it was merely a silent affliction of my mind.