The Scorekeeper

"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass...it's about learning to dance in the rain!"

Most people count because they can, I count because I must;

It's something that I simply can't control.

So shake your heads, throw up your arms, prate on in your disgust.

And I'll just sit here laughing...where's my pencils...time to roll!

Several months ago I referred to Philip's counting obsession. His movies...his pencils...Julie's boyfriends, etc. Well Easter Sunday morning Philip's cousin Danni returned from her mini-vacation to Vancouver (seen above). As usual, she came bearing gifts. Philip, of course, received pencils. He was ecstatic! Why? Because as of Good Friday he only had 96 (no doubt about it...he counted them several times). He knew Danni's bounty would catapult him over a hundred! You could feel the excitement.

But it was not to be. For the pencils - while actually looking like pencils - were in fact...pens in disguise! Set Philip back years! Not only does he not use pens...he had to 'uncatapult'! He was still under a hundred. He skulked off to his room. We all teared up. Ten minutes later he came out..fingers mired in melting mocha...chocolate dripping from the corners of his mouth. The Easter Bunny had taken the brunt of his despair. He was spinning, but he was good to go!

Apparently Philip 'the counter' is not alone. After that previous post, numerous 'followers' informed me that they too were counters. They count brush strokes when combing, they count passing cars when at a red light, they count trees while driving, they count the letters in a word, and so on.

I too have always been a counter. I count each step when ascending or descending the stairs. I count each turn of the can opener when opening a can of soup, pasta sauce, etc. (just so you know...11 turns each time...never fails). This is involuntary counting...usually catch myself mid-count. I'll be washing the floor and suddenly find I've been counting the swabs of the mop, and the number of tiles washed. (Wait a minute! Did I just say 'washing the floor'? I meant, when...theoretically, that is, hypothetically speaking...were I too wash the floor...I would in all likelihood count these things!)

I used to walk into a room and in seconds inform those with me as to the exact number of people present. They were curious to know how I knew the number so quickly. "Easy," I would say. "I just count their feet and divide by two!"

Count von Count here! I'm an Arithmomaniac...hahaha!

Welcome to the World of Arithmomania
Arithmomania is the clinical word for an obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) in which the subject feels a strong need to count things (there are 12 letters in arithmomania). The malady can be as mild as counting sheep at bedtime (not to be confused with Men Who Stare at Goats starring George Clooney and Jeff Bridges), or as extreme as assigning values and numbers to people, objects or events in order to deduce their coherence. Counting may be done aloud, or simply in thought.

Philip counts out loud. If we interrupt him mid-total, he growls, expresses his annoyance, AND STARTS OVER! The key is not to interrupt. I can't count the number of times we've made that mistake!

OCD anyone?

According to the National Institute of Mental Health, "Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD), is an anxiety disorder and is characterized by recurrent, unwanted thoughts (obsessions) and/or repetitive behaviors (compulsions). Repetitive behaviors such as handwashing, counting, checking, or cleaning are performed with the hope of preventing obsessive thoughts or making them go away."

Howie Mandel, in his book, 'Don't Touch Me', addresses his personal struggle with OCD and the affect it has had on his life. It's an informative and entertaining read. A real eye-opener. His particular obsessive-compulsive disorder is germs...his fear of touching anything germ related...and his obsessive need to wash his hands...again, and again, and again! Not sure how many times a day Howie performs this ritual, but if Philip was in the vicinity, I'm sure he would know. After all...'counting is us!'

Shortly after we arrived in Kitimat, when we were living with Diane's sister Elaine, I found myself counting my steps as I walked to work at 4:30 in the morning. This intrigued me, so the next day I determined to do it consciously. I discovered that deliberate counting is not as much fun as compulsive counting. After 500 steps I became disoriented, confused, and fearful of losing track. Not to mention what I might have been counting had I met a non-calorie counting bear on the sidewalk at that dark and lonely hour! After several attempts and several confirmations, I was confident that it was exactly 756 steps from our front door to the front door of the shop. Serenity at last!

Then we moved! 756 was history...redundant...meaningless...an insignificant number!

So, a week before the actual move, I did a trial count from our new place to the shop. Needed to know. Took Philip with. The plan was simple:

We wouldn't talk, we'd only walk,

And count the steps we took.

He took the bait, he couldn't wait,

Brought pencils and notebook!

Our marching orders were clear. We were focused. The sidewalk serenade commenced! Only I'd forgotten. The Scorekeeper counts out loud! I knew it was more than 756 steps...just needed to know how many more. Big mistake!

Counting 100 pencils...out loud...in the privacy of his room? No problem.

Counting 300 movies out loud...alone? No problem.

Counting cards out loud when dealing at poker or 'school'? No problem.

But 980 steps...one - at - a - time...out loud...on a public sidewalk!

I believe it was that day I lost what was left of my hair...my blood pressure issues began...my gout set in...my youngest son lost his job...my daughter moved 'again'...Pluto was deplanetized...and Diane was diagnosed with diabetes!