Six is the New Three

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Abstract

xhausted. Plus, I don’t fall back asleep like a carefree child. My mind starts racing. I worry if the dog is sick.<figure id="31cd"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*0Fi64_m1kucwpyZZ70L7Jw.jpeg"><figcaption>Three pups (possibly bathing in the 3 pm sun?)</figcaption></figure>Then, my mind jumps to the dog choking on her vomit, her dying, the autopsy I ask to be performed, the subsequent and exorbitant vet bills and, of course, the never-ending river of tears and grief. Once my dramatic writer’s mind calms down a bit, I start thinking about what I have to do in the morning. I scroll through Instagram. I play word games on my phone. It is now 4:03 a.m.Oh, my dear and beloved number three … You have been by my side, providing such a delicate safety net in a chaotic world full of uncertainty. For decades, you blanketed my superstitious and whimsical thoughts with a sense of comfort and peace. But, perhaps now it is time that we take a break. I’m not ending our rare and treasured connection. This isn’t an abrupt breakup at all. It’s just a step back — a moment to reflect.<figure id="429c

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"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*j0iQi4uUjfN2rlG5LDtQsg.jpeg"><figcaption>I was born into my obsession with the number three as I was the third of three girls. (That’s me on the right.)</figcaption></figure>As I lay here typing this departure note to my adored number three, I realize that by closing this door, another may soon swing open. Ah, yes. I am manifesting it now! I often go to bed at 11 pm and crave the elusive seven hours of sleep touted by so many experts. Universe, let’s have a new relationship with the number six. How much I yearn to instead be awakened at 6 am.Yes. Six is my new three (and, “surprisingly,” it just happens to be a welcomed multiple of my sacred number). Bring it, six! I welcome you here in my obsessive mind with open arms. I will knock on wood, sigh with relief and bestow constant adoration upon you, especially when the dog chooses you the next time she has to puke.This story was published on <a href="http://mediapub.live">MediaPub Live</a>, a really entertaining “news” site whose tag line is “not really satire.”</article></body>

A tale for those who are superstitious … or who have mild OCD!

Of course, I had to have three kids!

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had an obsession with the number three. I have three kids, three dogs, and I like eating M&Ms in multiples of threes. Three is not even my favorite number. That would be lucky 13, the number that adorned my high school jerseys. But, three is a number that makes me feel safe, comfortable and somehow aligned with the universe.

Yet as I just stumbled groggily to the bathroom after one of my dogs woke me with her puking sounds (sounds that immediately awaken any dog or human mom), I realized this obsession with three must stop. I had been right in the middle of an elusive dream, too. Ugh.

I looked at my phone, and it was 3:03 am. How many times have I woken up at 3:00 am, 3:03 am or 3:33 am? Real clever and comforting, huh? Not so much at 52 years old! I’m exhausted. Plus, I don’t fall back asleep like a carefree child. My mind starts racing. I worry if the dog is sick.

Three pups (possibly bathing in the 3 pm sun?)

Then, my mind jumps to the dog choking on her vomit, her dying, the autopsy I ask to be performed, the subsequent and exorbitant vet bills and, of course, the never-ending river of tears and grief. Once my dramatic writer’s mind calms down a bit, I start thinking about what I have to do in the morning. I scroll through Instagram. I play word games on my phone. It is now 4:03 a.m.

Oh, my dear and beloved number three … You have been by my side, providing such a delicate safety net in a chaotic world full of uncertainty. For decades, you blanketed my superstitious and whimsical thoughts with a sense of comfort and peace. But, perhaps now it is time that we take a break. I’m not ending our rare and treasured connection. This isn’t an abrupt breakup at all. It’s just a step back — a moment to reflect.

I was born into my obsession with the number three as I was the third of three girls. (That’s me on the right.)

As I lay here typing this departure note to my adored number three, I realize that by closing this door, another may soon swing open. Ah, yes. I am manifesting it now! I often go to bed at 11 pm and crave the elusive seven hours of sleep touted by so many experts. Universe, let’s have a new relationship with the number six. How much I yearn to instead be awakened at 6 am.

Yes. Six is my new three (and, “surprisingly,” it just happens to be a welcomed multiple of my sacred number). Bring it, six! I welcome you here in my obsessive mind with open arms. I will knock on wood, sigh with relief and bestow constant adoration upon you, especially when the dog chooses you the next time she has to puke.

This story was published on MediaPub Live, a really entertaining “news” site whose tag line is “not really satire.”