Do I dare to eat a peach?

Aries (3/21 – 4/19):  A while back I thought I could write better horoscopes if I would jot down ideas as they came to me.  We've seen how that worked out - the random scraps of paper tucked everywhere, marred with meaningless phrases, like "binder".  So I came up with a new plan, which is to have a little tape recorder in the car.  First, find the tape recorder.  Then buy the batteries.  Then find the tape recorder again.  Then have an idea.  Then have an idea while driving, and when the tape recorder hasn't fallen out of reach.  It's all gonna come together soon, Aries.  For you too.  This is your week.  Make the most of it.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20): So I'm sitting the big name brand coffeeshop, using their wireless network to write this, and a lady comes up and taps me on the shoulder.  "How did you get your wireless connection?"  I tell her how to log on to their network, but she looks at me blankly.  "Could you come help me?"  So I go over to her table, and the computer is brand new.  She doesn't have any wireless connection set up, she doesn't have the wireless switch turned on, and so on.  I get it going for her while she's talking on the phone to someone else.  I know.  I give her the thumbs up when it's running, and she covers the mouth piece. "So, will this work at home now?"  "Do you have wireless internet at home?"  "Sort of.  It's in the air."  I say yes, because I'm afraid any other answer will end up with me going to her house.  I go back to my table and write for a while, and when I turn around, she's got this handsome man helping her.  I give her a questioning look, and she looks sheepish.  I'm not sure what happened there, Taurus.  You know those people who, when you ask them what time it is, they wish they had a watch so they could tell you?  Yeah, I know.  Taurus, claim your time this week.  Don't dither it away.

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21): We spend half our life circling the grass before we settle into something, and much of the rest thinking maybe we shouldn't be doing the thing we finally settled into.  How do you feel about a chore potluck, where we'd all bring our detested chores, toss them into a hat, and pick a different one?  I've brought this up before and haven't had any takers, which makes me feel a little like the chores I have are worse than everyone else's.  Who would spend a dollar for the chance to win 50 cents?  But the idea is based on the theory that we all balk at different things.  Consider it, at least. 

Cancer 6/22 – 7/21:  The other day, I followed E. down to the part of our building where all of the desks and chairs from people who used to work here are stored.  He wanted to show it to me, I suppose because it's amazing -- there are 600 chairs, 300 desks, stacks of computers, and millions of binders.  You have to crawl to get around.  To get there, we walked through the storage area of the other tenant in the building, and E. grabs a potholder and 15 tiny paper cups, the kind you'd put three meltaway mints in, or maybe a few Ibuprofen, depending on what's going on.  Just as he's doing this, someone from that tenants office walks in, and looks at us like, "sheesh, these people can't keep their paws off our stuff."  Which was a totally legitimate response.  When I lamented that this would be a lame reason to get fired, E got really annoyed -- "You're probably the kind who would be nervous if you were caught rifling through the director's desk too, aren't you."  Yeah, I'm that kind.  The hot pad was later offered to an employee who appeared to be giving herself a pedicure at her desk, but I guess she just has hotspots on her feet.  This week, Cancer, see if you can figure out a use for 15 tiny paper cups.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  I was in the store one day, and overheard a man talking to a woman:  "Yeah, but the first symptom of alcoholism is denying you have a problem, and I'm definitely not denying it, so I can't possibly be an alcoholic."  She did that head tipping/eye-squinting thing while she listened, as if she knew something was off, but couldn't quite place it, and they loaded up the cart with cans of American beer.  Don't let people be ridiculous this week, Leo.  Ridiculousness stops here.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22):  Virgo is said to be the hardest working sign of the zodiac, which is probably why you guys grabbed Labor Day for your own.  But try to lighten up just one little bit.  Follow my example:  I get home a little early with a ton of momentum. I'm totally gonna own those chores, tackle that list like nobody's business.  But I decide I should probably take a nap first.  Before the nap, a bath would be nice, right?  Because I'll be partly undressed anyway, so that would be efficient.  And then after then nap, well, since I'm already laying right next to my book, I might as well finish it, because obviously, I'm all about efficiency.  After I finish the book, it seems like I should probably just call my sister because I had the saddest realization ever this week, which is that she'll likely pre-decease me, not because she's sick or anything, but because she's a bit older than me.  I can't imagine a time when I won't be able to call her and laugh really hard, so I think I should do it all the time now.  By the time we get off the phone, I'm in a way better mood.  It's a bit late to get going on chores, and also, it's a pity to waste such a pleasant mood on chores.  I change out of the house-cleaning outfit that I won't describe here, and settle in to doing nothing at all.  On second thought, Virgo, do not follow this example.  This is what leads people to wake up at age 50 going, huh?  By the way, the sun is in Virgo now, so wear sunscreen.

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):  No, this isn't the fucking movies.  It's more like literary fiction, where the people think hard, struggle, have a few brilliant moments, and not a lot else happens.  But still, smuggle in some popcorn.  Leave a trail if you must. 

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  Grab onto the tiny but nonetheless amazing coincidences in your life, and nurture them tenderly until they grow them into a grand adventure.  That's all we can do.  That, and visit all of the Great Lodges.

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): Do you ever wake up and realize you have about 60 months left to live, and while that's long enough for lots of stuff, like execute a 5 year plan, still, it seems sudden?  And you're hoping you can get 60 good months of sitting on the couch, which some might consider a pretty low bar, but it is what it is.  May it be good t.v., my friend.

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19): If there is a god, Capricorn, don't you think he would tell John Boehner to knock it off? And he wouldn't need to use weird natural disaster metaphorish ways to do it, he'd just boom it right out in a big godly voice from the sky.  "John Boehner, stop being such an arrogant blowhard and resign already." 

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18): Today when I wasn't cleaning my house, (but I was wearing the frilly apron from Nicaragua in an industrial, non-slutty way), the young people popped in to get something.

"Can I feed you two?" I asked.
"You remind me of Goldie Hawn," the young lady replied.
"Can you stay for a peach, at least?" I replied, pointing to the bowl of ripe fruit on the counter.
"Wow, is 'peach' a unit of time in your family?" the young lady asked.
"We gotta be going now," said R., conclusively.

I guess pot smoking is alive and well, Aquarius.  Your age is still dawning.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  I heard this thing on the radio about how irritable people earn more money, I think they said that the grouchy men earn an average of 18 percent more per year than their kindly coworkers. Dutiful blogger that I am, I tried to search that, and here's the result, Pisces, so you won't have to do this yourself. Thankfully, Bing got me there, and it's true.  But it isn't all about money.  This week, don't worry about the salary, just keep being kind, and think of it this way:  they have to pay people a bunch more to be assholes, because who would do that for free?