I had a bad math experience in second grade that scarred me for life. I developed such an aversion to it that my brain closes down when I'm confronted with a math problem. I used a multiplication table in a college math class, for God's sake. My disability is well-known (and ridiculed) by those who know me well. I can't add three numbers twice and get the same answer.
Yesterday, Regis almost had me talked into doing taxes for AARP. They're short a volunteer and he almost had me convinced that I wouldn't have to do any math. I almost succumbed. Then I recalled that I am prone to transposing numbers and suffering great anxiety from the idea of numbers. In the end, I declined. It was a near miss.
I liken it to the time I was almost convinced to be a middle school volleyball coach. It will be easy, they said. You don't really have to know that much about volleyball, they said. I almost said yes. Whew close.
Math always seemed random to me. I was in my twenties before I figured out that 7 plus 4 is always 11. Good grief. Why do they try to keep that stuff secret?
I do not jest, my friends.
Regis is off doing taxes today. Gus and I might go back to bed for a while, just because we can.
Yesterday was my second productive day in a row. I puttered around the house, putting things away and organizing just a little bit. I took Gus for a walk but it was chilly and we only went a mile and a half. I took my laptop to Patrick's and wrote a letter to a friend while I ate a cheeseburger and had a big cup of coffee.
I also made about half a dozen phone calls about bills, appointments, insurance, etc. The kind of stuff I hate and put off too long. I was pleased as punch when I finished.
I have a couple of light projects lined up for today. I don't want this productivity thing to be a habit. It might raise expectations of me and I wouldn't want that.