i am not a numbers person

I can remember weird bits of trivia, which sometimes come in handy (like when I was able to find a Starbucks using the Postal Service when we were on the 10W in Arizona and I really needed a black tea lemonade), but numbers have never been my thing.

Case in point, I got a new cell phone. It required that I change carriers and ultimately change my phone number. I should point out that I only finally memorized my old number two months ago, after having it for almost three years. Really. I don't call myself, so didn't ever feel the need to know it.

So here I am with my new number ready to start updating the world. I start out by changing the sig file on my email. I entered the area code wrong! I don't know what I was thinking, but instead of typing "312", I typed "310". Perhaps I am longing for a trip to the beach ("310" is Santa Monica -- see I know that). Still it was very embarassing to realize that I started sending out email about my new phone number, with the wrong phone number.

Then there was our trip to Sephora. I love Sephora. I wish that $100 got you more than a tiny bag of goodies, but I still go.

On this last trip the sales people were being a little too aggressive for my taste. At every corner, there was an eager sales rep asking if I wanted help while B actually wanted to get a sample of a shower gel and couldn't get anyone's attention.

In our browsing I told B about this lipstick I wanted. I, of course, wasn't sure of the name or the brand. B still insisted I ask, so when the next overeager sales person (a guy) got in my face, I did. He had no idea what he was in for.

I told him I thought the name was "brick abyss" and that it might be by Dior. He was pretty sure it wasn't Dior because they usually are numbered. Ut oh.

He was a good sport, although he didn't locate it. Said it might be some brand I had never heard of. As we waited B and I chuckled about how they were in the back making a poster of my face with a warining to leave me alone. Either that, or I was sure I was going to get kicked out of the store.

I actually was close. It was Dior. I was "rouge abyss". It is number "874". I wrote it down. I'll never remember otherwise.

I'll close with a funny story, just to prove at least that I am in good company:

A reporter was finishing up an interview with Albert Einstein. The interview had taken place in Einstein's home, and to wrap things up the reporter asked for his phone number in case he needed additional information.

Einstein got up from his chair and went over to the shelf and pulled out the telephone directory. He turned to the "E" section, found his name, and gave the reporter his number.

A bit stunned, the reporter asked Einstein about this. Einstein explained that he needed to keep his mind empty to think. Thus any information that could be looked up, he didn't bother to memorize.

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