You see this title, “35 + 21”? Sounds like some math problem from school, doesn’t it? Well, for me, it wasn’t about numbers on a page. It was more like a roadmap of a real bumpy ride I went on, a personal project that taught me a thing or two.
The Grand Plan: All About the ’35’
So, I had this idea, a project I was pretty fired up about. I’m the type who likes to plan, you know? Get all my ducks in a row. So, I sat down, and I mapped it all out. Thirty-five steps. That was my magic number. I listed everything, clear as day, or so I thought. Each step looked manageable. I was feeling pretty good about it, confident even. “This is it,” I told myself, “Nail these 35, and I’m done.”
I got started. The first few steps, maybe the first ten or so, they actually went pretty smoothly. A few hiccups, sure, but nothing major. I was ticking them off my list. Felt like I was really making progress. “See? 35 isn’t so bad,” I thought. I was probably a bit smug, to be honest.
And Then Reality Hit: The ‘+ 21’
Then, things started to get… interesting. Around step twenty, maybe twenty-five, the cracks began to show. Stuff I hadn’t anticipated started popping up. Little problems became bigger problems. Tools I relied on decided to act up. You know how it goes. The usual stuff that never makes it into the glossy project plans.
I pushed through, managed to complete all those initial 35 steps. I looked at my list, all checked off. Victory, right? Wrong. So wrong. The thing was technically “done” by my list, but it wasn’t really done. It wasn’t working the way it needed to. It wasn’t polished. It was, frankly, a bit of a mess still.
That’s where the plus 21 came crashing in. And let me tell you, this wasn’t some neat, pre-planned appendix of 21 extra tasks. Nope. This was the unforeseen. The “oh, you’ve got to be kidding me” part. It was like an invisible chunk of work that just materialized. It was 21 more rounds of debugging, tweaking, overhauling, and sometimes just plain starting bits over from scratch. Things that should have been covered by the original 35, but somehow weren’t, or new issues that those 35 steps uncovered.
It wasn’t like a clean list of 21 items. It was more like a fog of extra effort. Twenty-one moments of “Seriously? This now?” or “Why didn’t I see that coming?” It was frustrating. It was tiring. It was the part where you really question why you even started.
- Like that one feature I thought was simple? Took three times the effort. That’s part of the “+21”.
- Or the unexpected compatibility issue with something else I was using? Yep, “+21”.
- Realizing a core assumption from my “35” was just wrong? You guessed it, straight into the “+21” bucket.
What I Took Away From It
So, 35 + 21. It’s not just 56. It’s a story of expectation versus reality. The “35” is the plan you make, all neat and tidy. The “+21” is the chaos of actually doing the work, the stuff you can’t plan for but always shows up.
Now, when I hear people talking about their perfectly laid out plans, their X number of steps to success, I just kind of nod. Because I know about the “+21”. It’s always there, waiting. It’s not about being a downer; it’s just how things often are. That extra slog, that’s where you really learn. Not in the easy “35” part, but in wrestling with that unexpected, messy “21”. That’s my takeaway, anyway.