a quirk

a Thursday Theme entry

I rolled out of bed at 5:20. Because 5:19 doesn’t make sense.

I’m terrible at math, but I have a thing for numbers. I memorize them. I know random product codes at work. I walk through the store calling them out. I remember birthdays, even for people that aren’t even in my life anymore. I spit out dates like Rain Man rattling off the number of toothpicks that fell out of the box. I keep phone numbers and important dates in my head for future reference, even if I don’t ever need to know them again.

I can also be very OCD about numbers. If it’s an odd day of the month, the volume number for the car stereo has to be on an odd number. If I put gas in my tank, the amount has to be divisible by the day’s date. When I get water for my kids, I put equal amounts of ice in each cup. I like even to match even and odd to match odd, unless the numbers can somehow break down into one easy number, like 4/20 becoming 1/5.

It actually takes a considerable amount of effort not to let my brain do this. Sometimes I’ll jump in the car and the volume number doesn’t jibe with the date or the time. I have to close my eyes and spin the knob to a comfortable level and not look so I don’t know where the numbers fall. Roll over, don’t look at the clock. Just let it be, man. So far, this kind of behavior hasn’t interfered with the rest of my waking life, so I might be totally insane, but a high-functioning weirdo. We’ll just call it a quirk for now.

I also collect things, like beer caps and CDs, and arrange them in order by color. But hey, who doesn’t?

After a good therapy appointment: