Do The Math!

Did anyone notice that in my last blog I mentioned that bad things come in threes, but since I’d experienced six bad things, that timeworn adage was obviously incorrect? Did anyone else notice that I’m incapable of doing the math? I am betting all my former breakfast, lunch, and dinner partners (and my math-centric husband) are laughing themselves silly over this faux pas, because they’ve experienced first hand my excruciatingly slow bill-splitting and tip-figuring routines at the end of each meal.

I admit it. I didn’t double-check my work, even though my teachers told me to when I was their nightmarish math disaster student, gazillions of years ago. If I’d paid more attention, I’d have easily figured out I experienced two sets of three bad things, and that…bzzzzzz…oops…time’s up. Papers and pencils down.

The multiplication police just arrived, and are going to take me away. They say I’ll have to stand in front of them and recite my times tables (neatly written on 3x5 cards) until the cows come home. Or the sheep stop needing to be counted by twos.  Or my second grade, tenth grade geometry, and eleventh grade trigonometry teachers stop tossing and turning in their respective graves. (See, bad things once came in threes for me!)