Osborne Reynolds, the Nineteenth Century scientist, lived his life in turbulence.
His "number," i.e., the "Reynolds Number," is the ratio of inertial forces to viscous forces within a fluid subjected to different fluid velocities.
You don't have to remember that.
At a low Reynolds Number, flows tend to be laminar—sheet-like; alternatively, a high Reynolds number portends for a flow that is turbulent.
You don't have to remember that, either.
Any bonafide turbulence involves the intersection of different fluid speeds and directions. The chaos that results can even counter the direction of the flow, creating eddy currents.
That's funny, because my name is Eddie, and I have always been unable to go with the flow. Like my name, eddy currents churn the flow and increase the risk of cavitation. my cavitation. Not good.
Now that's what you should remember!
I take blood pressure medications because the eddy currents in my arteries risk cavitation, especially in my brain—relevant because of something that happened to me just this morning.
Right after my morning coffee (which, unfortunately, raised my Reynolds' Number), I was minding my own business, walking the short walk to work. Distance from work, purposely orchestrated when considering a mortgage, can favorably impact one's Reynolds Number. Mine was short, countering my coffee-induced Reynolds Number increase.
That's when I crossed paths with my ex-wife.
It had been a particularly acrimonious divorce, fraught with bad arithmetic relegating me from the royalty of my castle (as, per Sir Edward Coke in 1604, when he wrote, “Every man’s home is his castle").
She approached. With another man on her arm. They looked good. Even royal. I retreated into my litigated serfdom and my Reynolds Number rose.
"Hey," she offered with a wry smile, "how's it going?"
For the record, a sarcastic “How’s it going?” raises the blood pressure. Diastolic and systolic mean nothing. Dysrhythmia means nothing. The little question speaks volumes about your outcome in prior proceedings and even flaunts your outcome — compared to hers. “Wry” — especially — raises the Reynolds Number, as mine did precipitously.
Oh, did I mention the man was the guy who had fired me from my previous job? I had always wondered why. Now, how could I know that my own Reynolds Number was going over 4,000? (That’s a bad number in the Reynoldsverse.)
Turbulence ensued.
Cavitation began. And while a cavity in your tooth, among the teeth you gnash, can be filled to make the tooth right, especially the eye tooth I would have willingly given up to never see her again — especially with him!— cavitation in the brain is not so remediable.
I could have recovered from my stroke, but the fact that if I died, she'd get over it fast, pushed my number to the point where I did just that.
...so now I check my Reynolds Number every day. I learn so much from your posts.
Just one recommendation: Ommmmmmmm! Ommmmmmmm!
🧘🏻♂️