Romance will bloom in your sign this week, coating everything with a thin layer of pollen and making a mess before germinating into the overripe and rotten fruit of routine.


There will be no major changes in your life this week, which given the fires and barracudas, is pretty terrible news.


Sleep will elude you as you wrestle all night with existential questions of mortality and meaning as well as a couple of random wrestlers.


You’ll start to think the people who want you to choose between hugs and drugs have set up a false dichotomy after discovering you can actually have both at once.


Remember, only you can give yourself permission to be happy, although the people in charge of giving you permission to use the bathroom may have something to say about that.


You had no idea the love life of the nuthatch was so vigorous, so obsessive, and so likely to result in the death of people like yourself who just like to watch birds do it.



You hate the phrase “We’re through the looking glass here, people,” but you’ll have to use it anyway this week when you and a bunch of people go through a looking glass.


The stars hate to be the ones to tell you, but the problem with you is certainly not that you love too much.


People will say you’ve hit a new low even for you, which is depressing, as they clearly haven’t been paying attention to a thing you’ve done.



You’ll score a bunch of great stereo equipment and furniture from your neighbors, who happen to die when you go into their house and stab them and take all their things.


This week will teach you that there are certain things that really can’t be faked, such as love, respect, and the human arms.


You knew that moving to the suburbs would expose you to a whole new kind of culture shock, but you had no idea there were people who didn’t get drunk to mow the lawn.