I need direction in my life, both figuratively and literally. Maybe using my daily horoscope as a life coach, rather than as harmless entertainment, is not a good idea. It told me months ago, “You’ll get a stretch of beautiful mental clarity.” I’m still waiting.
Another day’s horoscope read, “Be glad that you recognize your flaws.” If I had any flaws, I don’t think I’d be glad about it. Oh, wait, is being immodest and unaware of your flaws considered a flaw? Then I guess I have flaws.
My horoscope also told me, “You’re on the road to greatness.” I’m not much good on road trips. I have a lousy sense of direction. I once got lost on a midnight trip to the bathroom in my own house. I blamed it on the dose of medication for congestion that I took at bedtime. I stumbled into the hall, ricocheting off its walls like a billiard ball, fell through the bathroom doorway, banged my hip on the sink, then fell backward crossways into the tub. On the way down, I grabbed for the shower curtain and pulled both it and the rod off the wall and on top of me.
Since about one-twelfth of the population shares my zodiac sign, I’d expect major traffic issues on the road to greatness, wherever that is. So odds are, if I’m on the road to greatness, I’ll take a wrong turn and end up in a line of traffic heading south over the Mexican border. Unfortunately, my knowledge of the Spanish language consists solely of the menu board at Taco Bell. In order to communicate, I’d have to fall back on my feminine wiles. I’m not sure what parts of the body “wiles” are, but at my age, they’re probably located somewhere south of their original location, and likely well-padded.
One day my horoscope said, “You’re amazing in a pinch. It’s as if you have an old head on young shoulders.” First off, if he thinks that anything below my head is young, he’s never seen me naked. As for that first sentence, I don’t know how he knew that, but I am indeed amazing in a pinch, either as the pincher or the pinchee.
It’s partly due to the fact that men never expect to be pinched. There’s a skill involved in a successful pinch. If you’re the pincher, the goal is a yelp and a laugh, not a piercing scream and a lawsuit. Keep your nails trimmed. You don’t want to leave any evidence for the CSI team. A crescent-shaped slash is an easy match to a guilty thumbnail. Watch the degree of the angle of the thumb in relation to the knuckle of the index finger and don’t exceed psi (pressure per square inch) limits.
I’ve sanded the tips of my thumb and index finger, just in case the CSI team dusts the crime scene (victim’s rump) for fingerprints. Always approach the victim in a crowd, where it is easy to blame the incident on others.
Just as in real estate sales, it’s all about location, location, location. The victim’s “back porch” is more desirable than the “front patio,” and his “wood-burning fireplace” is a temptation, but more trouble than it’s worth.
Another day, my horoscope said, “Your cat qualities will come out. You’ll be smart and chic.” I like cats, but I’m not sure I want cat qualities. I have a friend who once asked me why I liked cats, since she finds them, “sneaky and sinister.”
I told her I got a cat because I felt a void in my life that could only be filled by the daily presence of a bloody chipmunk carcass on my front porch. I believe that the lingering aroma of used kitty litter would add an air of understated, refined elegance to my home. I enjoy the drama of a haughty, arrogant, neurotic animal hacking up hairballs on the kitchen window sill as I eat breakfast. I relish the sense of anticipation as she daintily samples a new brand of cat food that costs more per ounce than prime rib, only to have her upchuck it moments later on my new white sofa. I guess it’s hard to explain, but my horoscope got that one right.
As my horoscope said, the clarity of my mind may amaze me, but it’s horrifying everyone else. It must be true, because today’s horoscope said, ” Your sense of whimsy has gone unappreciated.” My apologies. Maybe tomorrow’s horoscope will tell me how to make amends.