On the Brink!

 

 

300 has become my favorite benchmark number. It’s not large, or even all that substantial, but no other number allows me to toss on a fake beard* and bellow “THIS IS SPARTA”.

I mean, I guess I could do that every time I did twenty-eight or a thousand of something, but I feel that it wouldn’t resonate quite as well.

Now, because I adore this number so much, the universe is playing the lame joke of constantly bringing me to the brink of achieving it, and then backing off. How many twitter followers have I had over the last week? Between 292 and 301, but never 300! How is that even possible? How many adds does Don’t Bite the Messenger have on Goodreads? Wouldn’t you know it? Hovering at 299.

It’s like somebody doesn’t want me to jump up on the table at yell “THIS IS SPARTA”. Or maybe they’re just tired of me kicking people into wells.**

I’m not sure what to do with this, since I can feel a patriotic shout hovering behind my breastbone. Maybe I’ll start working with multiples, or all the prime numbers under 300 (I believe there are 62, in case you were wondering). Or maybe I’ll just wait.****

Le sigh.

 

*Yes, I often do carry these about in my purse, if not on my person.

**I pretty much never do this. In fact, we don’t even have a well. We live in a bog*** (Don’t be jealous. It’s totally not as glamorous as you’re thinking), which doesn’t lend itself to stable well construction.

***Recovered bog, according to the city.

****I was never good at patience.

And, for good measure: