Numbers

Looking at an old bank statement, I realized that the temporary mailing address we used when we first moved here – at a private mailbox place – had not only ‘zip+4’ but ‘zip+4+2.’ When did that happen?

I remember when zip codes first started. There was a hue and cry then about depersonalizing everything – even Charles Schultz got on the bandwagon and named a new ‘Peanuts’ character 5: “Our family name is 95472,” said 5. “Actually that’s our zip code number. In fact that was the number that sort of started the whole thing. That was the number that finally caused my dad to become completely hysterical one night.” – Peanuts Treasury by Charles M. Schulz, © 1968.

He was on to something. A 5-digit zip code was bad enough. A 7-digit phone number is worse, and now the area code is usually required besides. Add in social security numbers, lock combinations, pass codes, pin numbers, account numbers, and you just have number soup. Then try to remember the other numbers you should know right off the bat – what percentage will sales tax add to a purchase, what is your current bank balance, what amounts have you put on your credit cards this month, when is your mother-in-law’s birthday, what are the grocery store’s winter hours, and what is the phone number of your favorite take-out place. Yikes!

I am both blessed and cursed by the ‘discovery’ of cell phones and speed dials – I don’t have to try to remember phone numbers any more, but I am constantly on the verge of panic because if I lose my cell phone I’ll also never be able to get in touch with any of my loved ones again.

Well, maybe not.

Anyway, I don’t like numbers. They tend to get squiggled in my head.

When I try to do any arithmetic there is no automatic mechanism in my brain that tells me that, for example, when you add two numbers that both have 3 digits, you shouldn’t get a result in two digits. Or that there should be a noticeable difference between 5 thousand and 5 million.

It doesn’t ‘feel’ wrong to me when I deduct a deposit in my check book instead of add it. When someone is trying to tell me about any kind of ‘how much’ in an exaggerated manner, I have to ask if that is good or bad. In any heated argument with Mark about the news I can never remember the precise statistic from some published study I read that will drill my point home. But he always can. (Or he can make one up knowing I’ll never know the difference.)

Numbers just aren’t my thing. And they are piling up on me.