"This morning, I ate 5 olives for breakfast. I also had 2 pieces of light brown toast, a 3-egg omelet, and 11 raisins. I've had a breakfast very much like this for years. I'm not referring to the food. Clearly, having the same thing every day wou...
This morning, I ate 5 olives for breakfast. I also had 2 pieces of light brown toast, a 3-egg omelet, and 11 raisins. I've had a breakfast very much like this for years. I'm not referring to the food. Clearly, having the same thing every day would get boring. So, like most people, I change what's on my plate from day to day. What I'm talking about are the numbers.
Today, my breakfast was composed entirely of Prime Numbers. 2 of this. 3 of that. 5 of something else. And since I was still hungry, 11 of something as a treat. On other mornings, I will eat Even Numbers (2, 4, 6...). And the next day, it might be Odd Numbers (1, 3, 5...). From time to time, I will consume Perfect Squares (1, 4, 9...). Even more atypical is a meal composed entirely of Perfect Cubes (1, 8, 27...). On my most exceptional days, I will treat myself to a meal of Perfect Numbers (6, 28, 496...). I do this because breakfast by the numbers is a wonderful way to start a day.
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For most of my life, this has seemed ordinary and not worth talking about. I knew other people didn't do this, but I didn't think it was all that strange. You see, numbers are friends to me. I don't mean this to be funny, but you can actually count on them. They show up exactly when and where you expect them to be. Six always comes after five and ten is always less than eleven. In a sense, they're better than friends because you can't ever lose them. They more like relatives but only the ones you cherish the most. They're like that funny aunt who tells you that she loves you when you really need to hear it or that cousin who arrives for Thanksgiving dinner unannounced. Setting an extra plate for some people is never a problem.
I started collecting numbers when I was young. Back then, I would sift through the words spoken to me and filter the numbers from everything I heard. My ears were like sieves that only let numbers get through. What started as a simple attraction became a comfort. An obsession maybe. Or even a madness of sorts. But little by little, I began to fill in the gaps and create an actual list. That sounds too simple for what it really is because it was always much more than a list. It was a way of navigating through an unfriendly world. I'd walk down a street and see the house numbers as my friends. Not the people in the houses but the numbers nailed to the outside. One house would be 604 and that would be the melting point of Crystal Draino (604 degrees Fahrenheit). The house across the street was the height of Seattle's Space needle (605 feet) and the one next door was the formula that finally cured syphilis after 605 failures (magic Formula 606).
As you read the list, you may see themes and stories within it. But that's inevitable, you know. Any list like this will have patterns because the patterns are a part of whoever creates the list. I hope you will also see that I love these numbers. To me, they are familiar and friendly. Happy or sad, they are a joy.
So, here are my numbers. My dear friends. My cherished relatives.
