I do. I hate, not dislike, I hate odd numbers. I hate one, three, five, seven, nine, and any number that ends with them. For some weird reason all the numbers I get involved with happen to be odd. I live on odd numbered floors, my street numbers are odd, and so are my birthday, my birth year, and my student number. I have developed this crazy idea that the more odd numbers I end up with, the more likely I am to end up alone for the rest of my life. This little website counter has increased the pain ever since I got it. Every day at 11:55 I go and check the number of visitors I had for the day. I don’t care for the number much, as long as it is not odd. Well, when it is an odd digit at 11:55, I keep hitting my own website so that maybe I end up with an even number. A desperate attempt to change my destiny, I have had a %50 rate of success. Half the time however, one of my dear readers messed up with my fate at the last minute. Call me fucked up, yet I hate being any of the integers that are not exactly divisible by two.