Indulging my “occasional outbreaks of bullshit for the purposes of humour or frivolity”, and in celebration of having survived marriage to me for an entire twelve moons, on Sunday the philosophe gifted me a book containing horoscopic pronouncements for EVERY DAY of 2009. Beyond the good news of my frivolity now no longer being constrained to Sundays (when he reads the newspaper for news and I do for stars), the book actually starts in July 2008, so I could get tucked in right away.
The entry for 2 October 2008 tells me that I should “hang in there. Mercury turns direct again on October 15. [huh?] Your home life won’t be chaotic for much longer. Try not to start any new home-improvement projects under this retrograde. Instead, touch up the improvements you’ve done already.”
So, fellow Cancerians, we are apparently in retrograde. Chaotic home life, anyone? Blame Mercury. I didn’t realise my own home life was chaotic, except for the ugly kitchen floor which I do grow to hate more vehemently by the day, and which we have been planning to do something about. But clearly not today; don’t want to mess with the stars.
Now, bullshit aside, it amazes me how superstitions continue, and how easily we (yes, even me, just sometimes) fall prey to their rubbish when it seems convenient. Just the other day (in fact on the same day that we celebrated our twelve moons – indeed, in celebration of the twelve moons) we were enjoying a nice sit-down at a Blackjack table in a casino that sucks money out of people for apparently not knowing better than to imagine they can really bring down the house. There were a couple of established punters there already, and whenever anyone came to join the fun they started their mumbo-jumbo about how no one should open any more boxes on the table [start new hands, for those of you who don’t play cards] because four boxes was “working”. And if anyone defied them and did it anyway, thereby causing everyone to lose (naturally!), it was blamed on the bad too-many-boxes-karma. If only they could put their imaginations to the good use of either accepting the utter randomness of gambling, or to honing their own playing strategy, they might actually have a bit of fun. We did, plenty, even though we lost.
Still, superstition isn’t all bad. Two Sundays ago we were too lazy to take the walk by the sea we had intended, so we ended up paying good money to enter the Serendipity Maze at Mouille Point. Its gatekeeper told us many charming tales about mazes, including the fact that this one is supposed to be very big (it’s not) and that historically, lovers had to go their separate ways and then find each other in the middle, after which all woes of the heart will have disappeared. We laughed and made to start getting lost – together – but he refused: we had to go our separate ways. So we did, and thankfully found each other 5 minutes later in the “heart” of Serendipity. We had no woes when we started, but it was heartwarming to be found, nevertheless, and we walked out hand in hand, not quite into the sunset, but to Beluga for very spicy bloody marys and a platter of sushi. And they lived happily ever after.