Buck up: You still have a lot of life ahead of you, even if the good part was over years ago.
You will fall into a pattern of self-destructive behavior this week when you discover how much fun that sort of thing is.
After a long, sweaty, painful time trying to fix a knotty problem yourself, you’ll finally admit defeat and call in a real thoracic surgeon.
You’ll become frustrated and depressed when, after approaching beautiful women with the corny line “I must paint you,” you find it actually works like a charm.
A horrifying incident with a knife-thrower, a chainsaw-juggler, and a fire-eater will result in grievous bodily harm, although it’s kind of a surprise that it mostly involves being hit by a bus.
The stars are sorry, but someone has already thought of starting a band with two of each instrument in it. It wasn’t all that great an idea then, either.
You aren’t the first person to try to change someone after falling in love, but you might be the first to try to unfold that someone into a robot.
The powers-that-be will get back to you on that pesky legal matter with the news that they’re sorry, but you can’t be officially recognized as the first blind person to drive across North America if you put out your eyes just before crossing the finish line.
Some say the world will end in ice, some fire. However, the end of your personal world will be most notable for banal remarks on the humidity.
While it’s true there is no plumbing the depths of the human heart, you’ll come up with some novel ideas about its heating and electrical wiring.
Your theory that there are only two types of people in the world won’t go over well with the only other survivor of this week’s global thermonuclear holocaust.
You’ve always considered yourself a belt-and-suspenders type, but all everyone else seems to focus on is your lack of pants.