I deny all assertions that I am tone-deaf. I have, however, admitted to the possibility that I may be tone-hearing-impaired. This, if true, makes the fact that I pulled off a master's thesis (and subsequent publication) on prosody all the more impressive. Whatever the real capacities of my ear, it's a plain fact that I can't really sing. I have a five-note range, can only actually hit four of the notes within this range, and none of these reliably.
None of which means that I don't enjoy singing, but I have learned to avoid the ridicule that comes with subjecting to melodic stylings.* So I belt it out in the private spaces of my world, such as the especially acoustically pleasing environment of the shower. The elevator also provides a nice acoustic environment, and you would think on the weekends singing in the privacy of the elevator would be safe. I've been listening to Tegan and Sara obsessively the past week, and, when the elevator doors re-opened on the fourth floor yesterday, the line I was singing a bit too loudly was from the chorus of one of their best songs: "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't find me attractive." The person who happened to be standing outside the elevator had that kind of bemused look that gives away that apparently voices carry through elevator doors. At least, I suppose, he didn't look at me and say "You're not attractive."
* Karaoke doesn't count! As anyone who has seen my renditions of "Goodbye Earl," "Take Me to the River," or "Stacy's Mom"** knows, I don't sing at karaoke so much as perform. But, verily, I can actually sing a little better than what I've shared with the masses at karaoke.
** And, yes, I admit, shouting "Yeah, well, your Mom is next!" to hecklers in the crowd was going a little too far, especially given my professional position, etc..