Today has been strange enough to merit a look at the daily horoscope in the daily paper. It says today will be a 9.
A 9 = wrestling with our printer for an hour & your husband agreeing to print out the fiction stories for your last independent writer’s class.
A 9 = sweating through my drive to and from Renton, learning what lanes I need to be in at what time always a bit late.
A 9 = kindness at the coffee shop with people shuffling around to make room for me and my interviewee.
A 9 = a forthright interviewee who reminds you of yourself: why not be honest?
A 9 = my editor granting me an extension and helping me figure out what I need to find to be able to finish writing this story.
A 9 = a half an hour to write this and post it before school pick-up.
It’s funny, if the number were a 4, I would have said: yes! A 4: asking for a deadline extension, asking for help with printer issue, the day not going like the plan in my mind.
Instead: a 9. So, I turn and adjust my viewpoint. Yeah: a 9.
This is why my brother says horoscopes are not true.
It’s also why we make up your-day -is-a-2 jokes at my house. Your day is a 2: you slipped on someone else’s sweat at yoga class.
My day is a 9 that I thought was a 4, and I still have much of my 9-day left. Here’s to another day on this great, green planet of ours.