I’ve just got to tell you, in case you haven’t figured it out just yet, that this whole Numbering of the Spanks Thing is going to be a bumpy, bumpy ride. Numbering and me? Well. Huh. It’s just not going to be pretty.
Here’s why: in case you’ve somehow missed it—been buried on Pluto or something—I have OCD. Oh, I’m fine, never to worry: no need to send condolences or fear for your children’s lives or anything. No. I’m pretty much recovered. Yes! But: the way that happens is that you learn what works and what doesn’t. And for me? What doesn’t? Counting! Numbers, goddammit! I Do Not Count. Because, if you’re, oh, say, ME? What would appear to be a simple 1-2-3 to anyone else is the first fucking step down a long, long slippery slope.
I knew a man once, a normal-enough-seeming man, in a position of some authority, who had no idea he had OCD. None. I knew immediately, as soon as he told me this: whenever he was in a room with acoustical ceiling tiles, he had to count the tiles. All of them, every line, every row. And then? Like if he were waiting for someone, for a meeting or something and had Some Time on his hands? Then he was forced—FORCED, I tell you!—to count the holes in every tile. Yes. And then—because he was A Math Person—he was forced (!) to figure out the average number of holes per tile, the average number of holes per row, per line, per square foot—ad nauseum. God help him if the other party never showed: he’d be subdividing the area and figuring for pi.
Or something. Obviously I don’t know shit about math.
But you get the idea: some people with OCD wash. Some count. Some clean. Some check.
Me? Checking was my first love. Ah, yes. We still meet, now and then. Counting I’ve pretty much gotten over. Old crush. First love. And seeing as how I totally suck at math, there’s not much fun if you never get beyond the basics of pure counting.
Oh, that’s such a lie. That I suck at math. I may suck NOW, but at one time, I had a Very Promising Future in Math. Fancy classes and all that. But I think I realized even back then that Math and I were going to have one of those torrid relationships where you give up your soul for love, where you sell your family into Gitmo just to double-check your figures. I remember nights when I was 11, checking and double-checking those figures, getting those 100’s, sliding into The Math Nerd Class and just being on the brink of OCD Math Hell.
Holy crap. I escaped purely by chance (we moved to California, where they didn’t, apparently, Do Math (they were a year behind, and it didn’t seem worth the trouble to put me in private school, although it was Discussed = Reprieve!)).
ANYWAY. So. I don’t do math. I don’t count things. When a friend of The EGE taught me to crochet, I was all happy until he told me I had to count stitches, and I said, “Oh, no. I Do Not Count.” And he snorted and said, “For crochet, you do.”
He was so wrong. I crocheted a blanket thing and a couple of scarves and a big, heavy bed thing, and I never, ever counted one single stitch. Never. Just to prove I didn’t have to.
Also to keep myself from going totally fucking nuts and counting the fibers in each strand of yarn and the seconds required for each stitch and the number of breaths for a row, and . . . .you get the idea.
And then I quit.
And then, years later, I had to crochet something else, just to prove I could. Someone who Knew Me Well didn’t believe that I, Who Do Not Count, had ever learned to crochet.
I hate the crochet. It sucks the big winkie.
So what I’m saying here is this: if it’s important to you that the Journal Spanks be numbered in sequential order, that I not skip any and that I get them all right, then, um, you’re going to have to do it yourself. The numbering. Just put a bunch of numbers in a bowl and pull out whichever one seems right to you. Because I’m hanging on by my fingernails here: we’re still in the single digits, so there’s still hope; and , in fact, I thought I was doing an excellent job until someone mentioned it. But once we move on past #10? Oh, honeys: all bets are off. I’ll do my best, but the numbers? They are on their own. Feel free to supply numbers of your own choosing. Make some up! Invent a new system! I’ll be fine with it. Promise.