Numbers have never been my friend. I embrace words with passion, but numbers are another thing altogether.
Words, their meaning and their usage come to me with little effort, but the same canâ€™t be said for figures, and that would be just about in any form, including old telephone numbers.
Those I use regularly at work are fixed in my brain, but numbers of the past? Not even a dim memory where most are concerned.
The shining exception is the phone number I had when I lived in an apartment in Fayetteville as a young married woman. That number was Hillcrest 2-2287.