Tonight, J.R. and I were at the pet store, picking up some dog food, when the cashier encouraged us to guess how many dog treats were in the jar. Whoever comes closest wins the jar. Now, I'm horrible at guessing these things. I never win. J.R. suggested that I count the treats across the top and then multiply by the estimated number of layers in the jar. To which I said, "Too much math! It's 753." Now, as you may know, I am a fan of coming up with random numbers to assess the world around me. I can usually come up with at least 859 different ways to describe any problem I encounter. At long last, this ridiculous trait has come in handy. The cashier's eyes widened, and she looked at the other clerk. "Should we just tell them?" J.R. and I were all, "What?" I am thinking, of course, that I'm 537 off the actual number. "That's it," she said. "753." Shut up, lady. I won! I won!
And that is how I came to be in possession of 753 peanut-butter-heart dog treats.