Truly, this is an auspicious occasion. There are now EXACTLY 300 items in my email trash.
I’m TOTALLY into numerology, so such a nice, round, arbitrarily arrived at number must mean something.

I was ill this morning in an anal way, so perhaps I’ve shed 300 protozoic parasites in the restroom. But, that still seems a bit trivial for it to have mandated such a bold harbinger.
It may be that I must combine the number 300 with another number from today in order to clear up the omen.

Hmm, lets see. I printed 2000 circulars for a mailing later today. 300 completely fails to become a denominator for 2000 unless fractions are used. 7 and 2/3? Hardly numerologically interesting. WAIT! Seven, two and three are all prime numbers.
In fact, with the exception of 5, they are all the prime numbers below 10!

The missing 5 must mean something. There is only one real possibility. Against all odds and the best interests of my marriage, five people will have sex with me three hundred times today using seven body parts in two different positions.
It’s already….3:00 PM. I’d better get a move on, or I’ll be up kinda late tonight.
…I’m not entirely sure I have enough water soluble lubricant.

This is going to be complicated by the fact that there are only two women in my office, both of which find me physically repulsive–nay, repugnant!–and what are the odds that they both have condoms? I’m a bit short on prophylactics due to this whole monogamy kick I’ve been on for the last ten years or so, and that means they better be packing. Maybe my wife could wear five wigs?

Maybe sex isn’t involved.
It may be that the fates are mandating that I drive home on two wheels, Dukes of Hazzard style, at three hundred miles an hour, listening to three different radio stations by changing the station every seven minutes. This scenario is completely workable, since I’ve borrowed my wife’s 4 cylinder Saturn VUE for the day.
The only weakness in this theory is that it would require me to be driving for at least 21 minutes to accommodate all the requisite radio station changes. At that rate I will have traveled 105 miles, and will have overshot my home by about 90 miles. Scratch the special travel plans.

Wait! That math didn’t take into account the accelleration time for the Saturn VUE to reach 300 miles per hour. Given the inadequate storage methods I’ve employed with my old solid fuel rocket boosters, I’m not willing to risk using them, so the acceleration time would be…infinite. Which, when given the finite number of radio station changes and distance travelled should all wash out. Sounds like a plan!

Whew! That’s so much more palatable than all that sex with inadequate lubrication.

All done.
Oh, wait. I just deleted another spam. 301… 301…