So, I lay in bed until fifteen minutes before work. I hustle with my bleary eyes and slight red wine headache (greg and I talked into the night about "just going with it"). Ah, I remember, as I'm doing the purse-packing and heater turn-offs: It's December 1st!
Eagerly, I go to my calendar and turn the page. It's a very nice Van Gogh with my favorite feature of listing moon phases and international holidays. I always like December months - calendar-wise. They are traditionally the best. I flip, and it's a frikkin' portrait of Van Gogh. BORING. Then, I remember: new astrologyzone.com. It's all about how I'm going to make tons of money and do career shit. All right. Last month was supposedly about amazing things and love and "the best november EVER", and I ended up with a messy break-up and a divorce finalized. All righty.
Lucky robot. I am writing to you and ignoring myspace a bit. I'm fickle.