Horoscopes are a Girl’s Best Friend

I know you shouldn’t read horoscopes but I must have the bloke from the Evening Herald, because he’s just so POSITIVE.   When I was going through the bullying rubbish at my last job my mother would read him out to me to make me feel better and he DID.  He is great.  My life is on the up; I am amazing; it’s all going to be fine.  Who doesn’t need to hear that?

He has turned to finances now, specifically, the fact I was coming into money last week.  I thought about the wages in my new job and knew it wouldn’t be that.  I have no discernible talents that would allow me to work unhindered and in joyous self employment so it wasn’t that either.

Then it happened.

I always make my bed before I go to work.  It’s what us good girls do.  I remember taking a boy home with me when I lived in Sydney and how horrified he was that my  room was clean and my bed was made that late on a Friday night/Saturday morning.  I never saw him again.  Well, I did, but the second time was even more horrifying.

After shaking out the sheets (there’s none of this just throwing the blankets over the pillows malarky in MY abode) I was thrilled to find a ten cent coin where my feet had lain.  Dare I say diamonds on the sole of my sole, Mr Simon?

But then.

I went to work, and did my standard pre-work wee in the ladies.  And there was a five cent piece in the floor.

No I didn’t pick it up.  I have never worked in an office where the kitchen and bathroom are so dirty.  I actually saw something crawl on the toilet floor one day.  It wasn’t a co-worker.  It was something that would survive the bomb.

And that, my friend, is the extend of the riches promised to me by the Evening Herald.

This week he said the new moon would contribute to more positive feelings, and I should love myself.


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