I’m a math nerd.
I admit it.
I spent four years in college studying it.
To turn around and do nothing with it.
But it doesn’t prevent me from still enjoying number-related activities. I’m the kind of person that roles their eyes at those who question (out loud) what an item costs when it’s a certain percentage off and then leave satisfied because at least they know that it’ll be less than the sticker.
When I’m bored, my activity of choice is Sudoku. I even have a pocketbook-sized book of them I keep in my purse for those annoying lines you inevitably find yourself in from time-to-time. And every night before bed, I do at least one.
The problem I’ve noticed, however, is that my ability to do a puzzle is inversely proportional to my level of stress, lack of sanity, amount of sleep, etc., etc., etc. It’s definitely become my yardstick (sometimes just a ruler…) for my daily mental acuity.
Piper has picked up on my anxiety that comes from my decline in Sudoku ability. She decided that if she finished all my puzzles for me, I couldn’t fret over my cognitive decline.
While doing my hair this morning, I found her talking her way through the puzzles.
I tried to convince her that it might be easier if she turned the book upside-right. She apparently disagreed because she started yelling at the book (or me?) after I turned it around for her.
Either that, or she simply enjoyed the added level of difficulty from having to do them upside down.