I just read our horoscope in today's local paper, and for once, I could actually understand it, and it's good:
"A very positive day for work--you showed the capacity to create more favorable circumstances to score points and obtain what you want. But don't let yourself be carried away by enthusiasm. Remain vigilant until you have reached your goal. Big successes in love!"
Actually, when I tried to type that last sentence, at first I wrote "BUG successes in love." Maybe that was a Freudian slip? The good news is that there seem to be way fewer bugs in the house. Not sure if it's just the season, or if they've decided to take a powder because of the nutty woman who keeps ushering them out via her cup-transfer system (that is, when not squishing them outright with the Giornale dell'Umbria--the source of such insightful horoscopes as the preceding). The problem with randomly killing bugs is that they could be Kafka, or Charlotte, the literary spider. As for the mille piedi who are supposed to be beneficial, and ditto for the unattractive Stink Bugs that are currently favoring us with their presence, they both have a face that only their mother could love. But who knows? If the Buddhists are right, we might be reincarnated as one of them, so a little humility may be in order. Alternatively, those ugly creatures themselves might find themselves reincarnated as Capricornian Minnesotans. (not sure whose fate is worse)