Horoscopes: The Break In Edition

Aries (3/21 - 4/19):  In case you've been hiding in your closet with your hands over your ears, here's what's going on:  there was a raid on Trump's lawyer's office, Michael Cohen, and they confiscated his papers.  This caused a big to-do.  If someone confiscated my papers, no one would care, especially me.  I'd be like, "hallelujah!" and that word isn't even in my active vocabulary.  The minions would be lugging out boxes and boxes of stuff out of here and I'd be thanking them, and showing them where there's more papers.  They'd go through every last scrap and find a million half-started essays, and patterns to knit things that were never completed, and grocery lists filled with capers and yogurt, and bills, and dozens of sketch books filled with insects.  They'd probably come back later and offer me some sort of assistance.  I bet I qualify for a program.  None of my friends would be at all nervous.  That's not it went for Cohen, though, Aries.  His friends were crazy-nervous about it.  Anyway, your horoscope:  maybe it's time to get rid of some stuff.  Let's put those mini-storage places out of business.  They are what's wrong with the world.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  One thing that would happen if they were to seize my papers: the poor saps who have to read all of the thousands of wetland reports would jump off bridges or shoot themselves to get away from the boredom of it all. "Wetlands were evaluated using the 1987 Corps of Engineers Wetland Delineation Manual and the 2010 regional supplement blah blah blah the site was dominated by Douglas fir blah blah blah".  And they'd have to read every last word to make sure I didn't sneak anything tricky in there.  The bright side would be that finally, at long last, someone would read one of my reports!  Taurus, don't just skip to the map, actually or metaphorically.  Read the words!

Gemini (5/21 - 6/21):  So, after the raid, Trump had a giant hissy fit, (hissy fit is the new presidential), and demanded that he be allowed look everything over before anyone else sees it.  Because we can trust him, right?  If there were anything incriminating about him, he'd read it and then pass it directly on to the investigators, to be sure, just the way released the tax returns. But the judge said no, we'll do it the regular way, and Trump had (another) giant meltdown, revealing his inner toddler as his outer asshole.  Oh Gemini, I'm so sorry that sarcasm has leaked into your horoscope.  Here we go with something more horoscopish:  Mars and our old friend, the former planet Pluto, are conspiring to make some big stuff go down this week.  Big.  I mean, this is going to be really big.  And Jupiter is in on it too.

Cancer (6/22 – 7/21):  So there's a courtroom scene, and Trump's lawyer, Michael Cohen, was asked to reveal his other clients, and it turns out he as three.  That's normal.  A law firm with only three clients, and they're all newsworthy for being icky.  The fact that the three of them can keep someone rich tells you everything you need to know.  Like, are those guys in trouble a lot or what?  How many of my readers would it take to keep an attorney busy?  Anyway, you all know the three clients -- two who needed help shushing the porn stars, and one who claimed he isn't really a client, he just wanted some advice.  It would be awkward to claim a professional relationship with attorney who specializes in shushing porn stars.  But wasn't that scene Perry Mason-ish?  7 billion people on the planet, and we know all his clients?  The more I think about it, it sounds made up.  Cancer, let your world be big and broad.  Encounter more than three people.  Go on a trip!

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  I went to the dentist a bit ago, and they said I should do this proactive thing, blah blah blah, replace an old filling with a new crown.  It will only cost $1500, and take just a few miserable hours of your life, so sure, of course I signed up.  Because I'm a grownup, and because if we aren't deeply suffering, how do we know if we're truly alive?  If you're ever in doubt, Leo, go enjoy a little dental work.  Anyway, the tooth that didn't bother me at all before the procedure now is one I can't chew on without wincing.  I returned to the dentist who drilled on the upstairs natural tooth, to get it to match the manufactured crown.  This seemed disconcerting.  If you go to a locksmith to return a key that doesn't work, should they change the door to match the bad key?  No, that's not a thing.  When I mentioned that it still hurt, he said, "You should probably just take ibuprofen.  That, dear Leo, is why adulting isn't all it's cracked up to be.  It's okay to let things slide.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22): Does clicking the box that says, "I'm not a robot" actually prove it?  I'm not a robotics person but I'm thinking a robot could be trained to click that box.  

Libra (9/23 – 10/22): I've gotta say, I'm so smitten with Emma Gonzales.  She is such a bright star, funny and real and smart and she was made for these times.  May we be worthy.

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21): So between starting this post and now, my car was broken into and someone stole my computer and computer bag with my papers.  Just like Cohen!  I know!  It's kind of exciting, and I hope they read every last paper. I hope they study my little hard-cover journal and look at all the sketches and to-do lists and ideas.  There's really so little in there that they'll think that it must be some really complicated code, and they'll spend hours trying to figure out what the hell.  "This can't be all there is, really?  Just a bunch of grocery items and ideas for giant insect parade art that converts to garden art?  That's not normal. . ."  Scorpio, be a little bit normal this week, but mostly be your wonderful self. 
  

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): Speaking of identity theft... now that someone has my computer and all that goes with it, I'm kind of excited about the possibilities.  Go ahead, steal my identity, but here's how it goes:  You'll spend much of your time crashing around in the thick PNW forest underbrush, tying plastic to vegetation.  You'll sleep with a giant hairy shedding dog who takes up most of the bed.  Come winter, you'll devote your time to encouraging the townspeople to dress as vegetables.  You'll have to care for 8 beehives, 4 vats of kombucha, and a gallon of mead.  You'll have to make lamps and pants with the resulting kombucha leather.  You'll have to draw insects on cardboard and finish a bazillion half-started projects.  And the dog, she will love you madly but you'll have to spend a lot of time in the woods with her or she'll be a little too bouncy.  And you've seen my tax return.  You'll do this with that much money.  I'm just saying, you thought it would be a sweet deal, stealing my identity but, as we say when someone breaks up with us, "You're gonna regret this one..."  Sag, have a week with no regrets.  Embrace your identity.  

Capricorn (12/22 - 1/19): There are a handful of things I'll never tire of, like stories of twins separated at birth, DB Cooper, people who stage their own disappearance (ala, "Honey, I'm just going out for a pack of cigarettes..." and two years later, their spouse remembers that they didn't even smoke), interesting fossil finds, and mysterious sightings (sasquatch, ghosts, northern lights, the first bean plant to come up in the cold spring garden).  But one thing I am terrified of is space travel.  Why anyone would want to leave this little planet and go Out There is just beyond me.  But there's a whole new podcast about seven people who voluntarily pretended to live on another planet, only it was actually Hawaii.  Listen up!

Aquarius (1/20-2/18):  One thing that I'm super grateful for is that most of my files were backed up on Dropbox and most of my music was backed up on iTunes.  The thing that wasn't backed up, though, is my very careful OCD-ish rating of every single song, that created a carefully curated listening experience where every song was in a playlist, and each playlist had a raison d'etre.  Now, I'm faced with the choice of either re-creating the whole thing based on today's life, or just listening randomly.  Arrgh, even typing that hurts my sensibilities. You know how this will end, Aquarius.  Anyway, saturn returns, Jupiter rises, and the age of Aquarius is still a good song.  4 stars, just like the week ahead.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20): Pisces, another thing I'm so very very happy about is that I am not one of the tweakers who spends her day smashing windows to grab 5 year old laptops and paperwork and prescription eye glasses from random cars just to get maybe $50 and another fix.  I would so much rather have my weird little life with the crawling around in the woods and the shedding dog and the kombucha leather than the one of broken glass and bad juju.  Pisces, bring good juju with you wherever you go.