Three days in. Last things first: unsurprisingly, I should never have given myself this kind of challenge. Not my bag, neither the track-keeping part of counting nor the other part, which is really the first thing, but I'm starting ... Well, you know.
So this counting thing is perhaps crazy making. Counting for activity, fine. I can sing the bottles of whatever songs. I will count like objects in a physical space if I am stuck there and bored. This lovely tendency was reinforced in early grade school when learning that there were significant numbers of objects in church: 12 of these, seven of those, etc., each corresponded to significant songs or groupings of names or sayings or prayers. You get the drift. So I counted instead of fidgeting. It wasn't to remember, though. For remembering numbers, I have to fidget. Rotary dial. Touch tone. I remember those. Bake something repeatedly, and I'll remember proportions. Retain measurements in my head? Only if I'm using them. Remembering a just-taken measurement only long enough to right them down? Three is my limit.
So I may bail on this aspect of the activity. It may just get me down
As for the first part - enjoying or doing or indulging or remarking or taking in a bunch of good things? I may not have enough Pollyanna left in me. We'll see. Stories may trump counted lists. If, of course, there are actual stories.
Will this count?
Fujiyamamama is right. I will need more chocolate.