Right. I'm in a bit of a pickle about something. And itís not that I totally believe in stuff like this, but I like to pay attention for the just in case value. Bear with me for a second and check this out.
My love line is kind of made up of two lines that are all interwoven and tangled up together. Also, one of them gets thicker on one side. Bette Parker, upon glancing at my hand for a second, told me that I'm going to have two major relationships, but I'm going to find my true love later on in life.
In January of 2001, on a lark, (and I'm sure I've told you about this before) I went to go see a fortune teller who told me, among other things, that sometime in the proceeding two and a half years, something would happen that would be conducive to me getting engaged. This coming June will mark the end of that two and a half year period.
In November, when I was in London, I bought a book that detailed a day by day horoscope for the whole of 2003, for Gemini. I don't usually go in for actually purchasing stuff like that, but it was 99p so I shrugged and handed over the coinage. I've got to admit that that tiny little paperback has been pretty damn accurate so far. I skipped a head a couple of weeks the other day, and I read that it forecasts a whole month full of amour for me in May, which is lovely, no? Here's my problem.
May falls near the end of the two and a half year mark, so taking the fortune telling quack's words into consideration, along with the book and the lines in my hand... if all goes according to plan... does this mean I'm gonna die soon?!
Well, c'mon! It's a perfectly reasonable worry! I mean, the lines in my own hand say "love late in life". This is not supposed to freak me out?
* * *
If even one more person tells me I look tired, and asks me what's wrong today, I'm gonna haul off and smack 'em.
Tired equals ugly, you know. And close to death. Don't tell me it doesn't.
Ok, so fine, I've got a pretty new haircut that I'm not bothering to do anything with, and I've got makeup that I'm not applying with, perhaps, all the care in the world. And sure, I've got a craving for carbs and everything that falls in the bad food category that I admit to giving into more than I should, and perhaps I'm feeling a tad guilty about that and it's starting to show on my face... but bugger off, why don't you! You have to point it out? Besides, I may be looking at death here people, so sod off!
* * *
In other news, we've got a new countdown to look forward to. Forty days until my birthday. This is where I shake my fist at the gods of fortune, and yell, "Did you hear that clearly up there? I'm gonna be 29! And then I'm going to turn 30, and 31 and 32 and... Oh Lordy. Whoever thought I'd be embracing the thought of getting old?
Enjoy your day, poppets. Be like me, and use all the avoidance tactics in the world to miss the real problems. Make up imaginary death warrants that will fill your brain with worry and fatigue. Then, when you smarten up and put things into perspective, the real stuff wonít seem so bad.
Thatís the plan, anyway.
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