Agitarius: Week Two
Underwear, Exhaust Pipes And Chorizo
Monday, February 5th (Moon in Agitarius to Vaguus 2:33 a.m.)
Ignite your week with a firework of jubilee! Deliver Nestor’s Junior to school in your unremarkable sedan. Deliver your girlfriend’s pillows and a simple tote of her clean cotton underwear to your mother. Arrive at work remarkably late, but unnoticed. Eat a hoagie for lunch in the workplace “café” and treat yourself to two packets of mayonnaise. Make your Monday like a Friday! Drape yourself in the tantalizing colors of honeysuckle and seafoam.
Tuesday, February 6th (Moon in Vaguus)
At work, continue to dial down the magenta, both actually in your non-linear video editing software and professionally figuratively. Don’t let the small stuff pick you to pieces. Search for diplomatic ways to ask your colleagues what exactly isn’t “tight” in the audio mix of your video. Pick up Nestor’s Junior from the Argentinians and open up all of the windows in your townhouse to air out the meat smoke from your “son’s” skin and clothes. Your girlfriend has returned from your mother’s house, but now has no clean underwear. Spend the evening doing everyone’s laundry but your own. Lucky combo digits are 8 and 89.
Wednesday, February 7th (Moon in Vaguus to Fisch 5:44 p.m.)
When life gives you lemons, make a fresh carafe of lemonade! Use the startlingly loud note from A.Y. or R.D.’s new aftermarket Mustang exhaust pipe at 5:30 a.m. to get a bold start to the day. Skip breakfast to rewash your girlfriend’s only pair of underwear, as they will have soaked in the smell of spit-roasted beef from Nestor’s Junior’s afterschool clothes. At work, tamp your feelings down deep into the back of your mind so as not to be off-putting around a new young woman—E.A. or S.L.—who is starting her first day as a graphic designer on your team. Your power colors—albeit, overpowering—remain hues of magenta and purple. Don wintry shades of blue and putty to cool your hot spirit.
Thursday, February 8th (Moon in Fisch)
The project stakeholders will sign off on the videos you have spent several weeks dialing down and tightening up, but you will sense a cloud of unspoken disappointment in their approval. Try not to overanalyze the marketing director’s lack of enthusiasm when he sees you in the breakroom and dryly asks, “Good hoagie?” before walking immediately away, unanswered. Forget this advice lickety-split and spend the rest of the day questioning how many people think you are fat as you stare at E.A. or S.L. out of the corner of your eye, wondering if she is a lesbian or an “activist” of some kind. Get some Febreze on your way to pick up your son. Lucky lotto numbers are 7,12, 22, 23, 24 (and maybe 65).
Friday, February 9th (Moon in Fisch to Scirrociis 9:00 a.m. sharp)
Phone it in at work. Treat your Friday like a Friday! Leave early. Pick up Nestor’s Junior from the Argentinians and politely decline their offer to join them for their bonfire—the heat coming out the front door of their house will be so intense you will wonder if the bonfire is in the house. Accept their generous care package of six pounds of chorizo (?), as well as a parcel of noteworthy girth wrapped in a medium-sized garment box. Send your “son” in for an early and long shower—his skin has been getting extremely greasy lately—then an early bedtime, despite it not being a school night. Sit alone on your front stoop drinking red wine and watching the bonfire flames lick up over the top of the Argentinian’s dry backyard fence as your girlfriend chirps away in the guest bedroom—muffled by her barricade of throw pillows—on the phone with Taffy. Try cryptocurrency.
Saturday, February 10th (Moon in Scirrociis)
Get up at seven o’clock, microwave yourself a large mug of red wine, and spend an hour staring through the Venetian blinds at A.Y. or R.D. revving the Mustang in his open garage. Heat up a third glass of wine before brewing a pot of coffee, then open the gift from the Argentinians before Nestor’s Junior wakes up. Gasp, speechless, at the craftsmanship of the gift from the Argentinians: tiny gaucho bombachas trousers custom made for a six-year-old with matching, traditional horse boots. Over coffee and wine, suggest to your girlfriend that today might be a good day to move the rest of her things from her apartment since the lease will be up soon. You have no lucky numbers today. Throw another hundred bucks into crypto.
Sunday, February 11th (Moon in Scirrociis to Germino 11:53 a.m.)
Tell Nestor’s Junior to slow down on the chorizo at breakfast, as you will like some too. Your girlfriend will have left no later than lunchtime the previous day to go pick up her cotton underpants from your mother’s house, never to return. Leave her another message, then try to put on a smile as you cancel the moving van—again—and lose your deposit. Again. Continue to let the unseasonably warm weather bring merriment and delight to your weekend, but close the windows in the afternoon so the neighbors don’t hear your “son” throwing a tantrum because the chorizo ran out. Avoid looking at the crypto app on your phone.
Hi Carter, We met on the substack zoom today and here's my contact and stuff: mindstrengthbalance.substack, mindstrengthbalance.com, and LS@mindstrengthbalance.com