I have an obsessive/compulsive relationships with numbers.
For instance, this morning, I was almost home from a doctor’s appointment when I saw the odometer on the better half’s car reading 188880. Less than two blocks from the house. I just HAD to take a turn through the neighborhood until the odometer read 188881. Seriously. Now it does. Now I’m happy. The next goal is 199991, followed by 200002. If we can quit playing whack-a-mole with the car’s cooling system, I’ll be as happy as a pig in mud!
As for my car, the odometer read 62622 when I dropped it off at the dealership for some repair work before taking a trip later this week. I’m paying more than enough for the work to be done, and am looking forward to seeing 62626 when I pick it up later today. If the dealership’s service deparment runs it over that magic number, I’ll certainly let them know.
Car odometers aren’t the only numbers I am obsessed with. Take the trip I’m about to take. I have several entertainments lined up.
One of them – “Are we there yet?” – has to do with mileage stickers on Interstate highways. I’ll see a sign saying “East Smorgaswitch – 103”, and then look for one of the mileage stickers posted along the highway. I will then calculate what the sticker will say when I arrive at East Smorgaswitch and for fun, will guesstimate the amount of time it will take me to get there at my current speed.
Oh, and I calculate what the odometer will read when I get there.
When I’m not calculating miles to go in my head, I’m listening to old radio shows on the satellite radio station, keeping up with the body count on the mystery shows.
And as a fan of Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, I know the ultimate answer to the ultimate question about life, the universe and everything is 42. Problem is that no one knows the question, so, 42 remains an interesting enigma.
I suppose my obsession with numbers may have started when I was on the radio. We dealt with minutes and seconds and had to make sure that each message was accurately timed. We also worked it so that we would “hit the post” at the top of the hour to merge into network news. Disc-Jockey jargon. Hope you’ll understand.
Anyway, as I am counting it, I will be taking the dog Filbrix to “Doggie Camp” in 48 hours, 7 minutes and 18 seconds from the time I complete this sentence. (18 is another favorite number which came up while I was in college) When I head to the gym later today, I plan to be on the treadmill for 44 minutes and 44 seconds and/or just go for 45 minutes even. I’ll only be 16 seconds short of that second goal, you see.
Maybe I’ll stretch it out to 45:54 just to make things even!
Be Seeing You!
bdharrellauthor 