I’ve never had an easy time with numbers. Memorize multiplication tables? Didn’t happen. Do math
in my head? Nope. Memorize more than a couple of phone numbers at the same time? Not something I can do easily.
|If I squint, will I be able to see the home between this
one and its neighbor?
By Elkman (Own work) [GFDL or CC-BY-SA-3.0-2.5-2.0-1.0],
via Wikimedia Commons
Usually, I get by. It’s not too hard figuring out how to get around this strange aversion my brain seems to have with math, but when I moved to this town, I found myself even more confused.
The joke is that a drunken man designed the streets for St. Paul, since they’re so hard to navigate, but I have the feeling the same guy numbered the houses in Minneapolis.
You know how most streets have the number system of 1, 3, 5, 7, etc on the odd side of the street, and 2, 4, 6, 8, etc on the even? Well, the last two digits for our side of the street go 23, 29, 33, 37, 41, 45, 49. The houses aren’t far enough apart for buildings to fit between them, either.
How does that make sense? I don’t see the logic.
Thank goodness for the internet. Every time I need to go somewhere, and all I have is an address, there’s no way I’d be able to find the place without first looking the block up online.
Since I already have problems with number reversals, going to new places and relying on addresses alone is frustrating from the start. I think that may be why so many people with dyslexia and LDs like it tend to rely on landmarks so much more than strict directions.
In any case, I’m sure there’s some sort of reason why these house numbers are so screwed up. I like to think it’s because of a secret wizarding world, like the one in Harry Potter. The missing houses are actually there, but those of us who aren’t part of that world just can’t see them.
That said, I’d like to extend an apology to any witches or wizards whose properties I’ve accidentally trespassed on. Oh, and we totally didn’t mean to toss that extra snow in your yards.