Numbers are trippy

I hate math.

I know, you're shocked. Well, it's pretty shocking.

I mean, it's hard to imagine there is something that can frustrate me to the point of whining, crying, sporadic limb-thrashing and even the occasional profane turn of phrase (generally involving relatives, body parts and randomly selected members of the animal kingdom), but there is.

As long as I can remember, I have sucked something fierce at math. I like to believe it stems from the gaps in my early education due to a change from the English to the American school system in the first grade (shut up, it totally counts).

Because of math, I got my first C in 5th grade. This continued well into my junior year of high school, but mostly because I'm a sucker for tradition.

At my job, there is one day a month when I am forced to come face to face with this nemesis of mine. Once a month, I have to do the billing.

For a super smart person, this task would be like doing a 5-piece puzzle. For an average person, it'd be like a 100-piece puzzle.

For me, it's like a 10,000-piece puzzle of clear blue sky.

I hate to perpetuate the stereotype of women sucking at math, but there's nothing to be done. In fact, I also suck at parallel parking and I have no sense of direction...

...but one thing at a time.