There is some small quirk in my makeup that has rendered me somewhat obsessed with numeric patterns and cooincidence.
For example, I delight in the fact that Oliver’s birthday is October 1, 2000. Both because that’s 011000 or 100100 or 001001 depending on how you slice and dice, and because it means that it will always be easy to know how old he is at any given point in his life — 34 in 2034, etc.
For a similar reason (I think), I appreciate that our house is at 100 Prince St. Somehow it wouldn’t be the same if we were at 99 or 101. I like living at 50 Great George St. too, and somehow never got comfortable with 1360 Kingston Rd.
I have a friend who was born in 1933. I was born in 1966. The year she turned 66, I turned 33.
And just yesterday I found the following calculation tacked to the bulletin board at the uptown Formosa Tea House:
111,111,111 x 111,111,111 = 12345678987654321
Of course Google is all over this, but I still found a bit of comfort in knowing that this is true.