I’m kind of famous for not being able to do math…or even be able to comprehend how numbers work.
I frustrated a friend this morning by not being able to answer a basic financial starting point question. I understand that money is mathematical in nature, I try to keep as much of it as possible and trust I’ll come out “ok” in the end.
Numbers remind me of colors. Eight is always orange. The number seven is a lovely periwinkle; while “one” is a gauzy white. Please all left-brain readers – I appreciate how this does not compute for you.
Numbers are also good for creating patterns – as in k3 p2 (or knit three, purl two).
Number patterns are perfect for remembering sequences. My college ID was 326211. I could still dial up my Granny Glenn and have a lovely conversation by dialing 918-54X-76XX. The list goes on and on.
But imagine me in a calculus class. I know I spent the entire first semester of my freshman year in a slack-jawed stupor. God bless the poor instructor. I so appreciate the “C” I somehow scraped together.
I promised myself that at some point in my adult life I would enroll in a calculus class “just for fun,” if only to prove to myself that I could do it.
Nada. Scrap’n that one.
As I stand on the threshold of 50 years I have a deeper understanding of the precious shortness of life. There is not enough of it for me to struggle through a math class.
Anyhoo – my poor Microsoft Band has tried but I didn’t give it much step action today. It was wonderful at relaying social media updates and text messages. All is well. I have a strategy for catching up with my personal goals tomorrow.