This evening I went into the kitchen to fix myself a bowl of cereal. I have three clocks in my kitchen. One on the coffee maker, one on the microwave, and one on the oven. When I was pouring my cereal, I looked at the microwave. 11:11. I looked at the coffee maker. Then the stove. They were all eleven-eleven! I smiled. I looked happily from one clock to the next. It was like I was surrounded by a little symphony of ones. More 11:11's than I'd ever seen before, and totally unplanned! Just a nifty little coincidence. I poured my milk. I gazed again from clock to clock, taking it all in.
All things must come to an end eventually though, and the coffee maker was the first to increment to 11:12. It was okay; I'd enjoyed its transience and unexpectedness, like a shooting star of digital time-keeping.
I like other numbers to be lined up in a row also. When I do stomach crunches, I always do 111 at a time. When I do pushups, I generally do 11 "real" ones followed by 11 "bent-knee" ones. When I'm feeling more tired, I'll just do 22 knee ones. I celebrated my 33.333...rd birthday. I hope someday to have 44 alpacas. (Actually that one's not true, I just slipped it in there for fun.) I liked that my old office had 88 steps to climb to my floor.
I must confess that writing this makes me feel a wee bit like the boy in The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime -- but I think we all have our odd little neuroses or obsessions, even some people have the grace to keep them to themselves.
I just thought now that the three clocks with eleven-eleven added up to a total of twelve ones. Had I just thought of it 33 minutes earlier, I could have covered up one of the ones with my thumb. Then it would have been eleven ones! 11:11 11:11 1:11
Such an eleventy sort of situation would probably have caused daffodils to spontaneously bloom, with angels humming, right there in my kitchen.