Turn your phone off, leave it in the house, and go outside. Feel better? Mercury should leave you alone after this week, so try and wriggle your way out of any important meetings until then. Nothing useful will come of hard work, so just fake it. If you have any papers lying around, now’s a good time to shuffle them.
You can’t decide what you want to do with your life this week largely because you’re not sure what you deserve. Diamonds or respect? Fame or fortune? It’s not as much of a choice as you think it is. Listen to your most secret dreams before you tell us how unfair it is you didn’t get that trophy.
You’ve been feeling like your train is rolling slowly backwards lately, but if such sensations continue this week you can blame CityRail, not the planets. Your visionary energy has just begun to crest again. You will spend the next little while feeling nostalgic for the trough. People are weird.
If the earth was the size of a grapefruit, our atmosphere would be one millimetre thick. The planet is particularly thin-skinned, and so are you. It’s hard to realise when you feel this vulnerable that there are other people out there who need you. If you have any friends who aren’t bored of your navel-gazing, visit them.
Bad luck adds to your general sense of rolling a large rock up a hill this week. Funny, the story never mentions what Sisyphus did to earn his fate. I’ve always thought they should have pictures of that guy up in the gym. Look on the bright side: your emotional muscles are getting a workout.
Lipstick on your collar? This is a bad week for arguments, but you started it. Put the good crockery somewhere safe for a while. Your mother’s house, maybe. You might take a bit of criticism, but at least it’ll be offset by the secret memory of a stolen moment. Then you can go back to being a nice, normal, reliable Taurean. We’re all fooled.
Things are still moving sluggishly in your brain, like that time you put your sister’s pet goldfish in unset jelly to see what would happen, then put it back in the fridge. This week will turn out a lot like that week, only without the screaming. Scientific enquiries will be met with interesting data you can use in an unexpected way.
It’s not boredom that’s causing you to go out and be silly this week, it’s a genuine desire to renew your sense of self through social interaction. You will spend an entire day wondering what to wear to that office Christmas party without even considering this to be a waste of valuable time and energy.
You thought you caught some terrorists, but they turned out to be a bunch of kids with a small-time crime racket in the suburbs. Are you sure you can convince the nation we are in imminent danger from the Islamist Nation of Uzbekistan? Leos will get fingers pointed at them this week. It’s a pity we’re not due for another election.
You are still not acting normally. You would see a professional therapist if you didn’t find the whole process so erotic. What is it, the leather or the parental figure? Lucky you don’t have a hope in hell of getting bulk billing anymore, because this extra layer of neurosis will pass of its own accord.
With an equalising score of pants: one; brain: nil, can your intellectual powers resurface in this week’s penalty shootout to secure a place in the World Cup of Love? No! Destiny is on the side of pants for a change. That lucky coincidence was a one-off, but the effects are going to keep you singing for a while.
If I wasn’t interested to see what will come out of your mouth, I’d suggest you sew your lips together. You’re about to put your foot in every stinky pile within a five-mile radius. The already-porous filter between what you think and what you say is officially broken for the next two weeks. Yes, I am giving you permission to be a bitch.
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