A honest confession from moi. My memory for anything to do with numbers is hopeless to the point of an impending neuro-surgery. If you are pathetic like me, join in my woes. If you're a number whiz, feel free to gloat. Go ahead, you've my permission.
When it comes to remembering appointment dates, birthdays, anniversaries, telephone numbers - nothing registers in my brain cells. In fact, I think all members of the digit family love to gang up and play gags on me. First, they would cleverly attempt to sink in, making me faithfully shout every time, "Whoo, I got this down!". And, proceed to jump with joy as if I've nailed down a complicated astro-physical calculation. My euphoria has a short shelf-life though. At a world record speed of about a fraction of a second, gone...vanished...kaput....I lose everything. Feels as though a miniscule eraser has suddenly been projectiled into my brain, wiping off every single data and making the entire area a clean slate.
But, every problem has to have a solution. Right? Do you know who my savior is? The Veni, Vidi, Vici guy and one of the most influential man in history, Julius Ceasar. Before you think I've gone complete bonkers, let me explain further. If he hadn't introduced the concept of calendars, I would be dead meat by now. In fact, the sanity of my entire life literally hangs on my kitchen wall. Why, you ask? Because I have outsourced whatever-part-of-my-brain that stores numbers to those daily calendar sheets. They dutifully record all of my important dates and events and remind them to me every single day. My sine qua non. Ok, all this talk about Ceasar is tempting me to use Latin a little too much. To the point it's ad nauseum. No more.
There's one thing that beats me though. My brain can forget the simplest of numbers like today's date, but always, faithfully remember my growing age. Which after every birthday, I desperately wish to forget. How'ssss that?
When it comes to remembering appointment dates, birthdays, anniversaries, telephone numbers - nothing registers in my brain cells. In fact, I think all members of the digit family love to gang up and play gags on me. First, they would cleverly attempt to sink in, making me faithfully shout every time, "Whoo, I got this down!". And, proceed to jump with joy as if I've nailed down a complicated astro-physical calculation. My euphoria has a short shelf-life though. At a world record speed of about a fraction of a second, gone...vanished...kaput....I lose everything. Feels as though a miniscule eraser has suddenly been projectiled into my brain, wiping off every single data and making the entire area a clean slate.
But, every problem has to have a solution. Right? Do you know who my savior is? The Veni, Vidi, Vici guy and one of the most influential man in history, Julius Ceasar. Before you think I've gone complete bonkers, let me explain further. If he hadn't introduced the concept of calendars, I would be dead meat by now. In fact, the sanity of my entire life literally hangs on my kitchen wall. Why, you ask? Because I have outsourced whatever-part-of-my-brain that stores numbers to those daily calendar sheets. They dutifully record all of my important dates and events and remind them to me every single day. My sine qua non. Ok, all this talk about Ceasar is tempting me to use Latin a little too much. To the point it's ad nauseum. No more.
There's one thing that beats me though. My brain can forget the simplest of numbers like today's date, but always, faithfully remember my growing age. Which after every birthday, I desperately wish to forget. How'ssss that?