The Weather

Astro Guide: February 3-7

Aquarius (21 January – 19 February)

A man your mom dated before she met your father will send you a letter this week, in which he suggests you meet for coffee. Your palms will sweat all week as you anticipate some life-altering news—that maybe, just maybe, this man is your father. But don’t worry, Aquarius, all this man really wants to do is sleep with you as part of a lifelong personal quest to have sex with the offspring of all his ex-girlfriends.


Pisces (20 February – 20 March)

Eat three square meals a day. Toast, waffles, cubes of cheese, a properly quartered slice of pizza—these are all acceptable options.


Aries (21 March – 20 April)

You can master any skill you set your mind to. Except painting, of course, because you’re colorblind. And ballet, because you’re flat-footed. And knitting, because you have fucking webbed fingers. Sooo… maybe swimming?


Taurus (21 April – 21 May)

If you don’t stop blasting the Beyonce album on repeat this week, your neighbor will take action. Specifically, she will dose your mushroom soup with psilocybin, and Beyoncé’s lyrics will begin to warp until they’re prodding all your insecurities. Listen: She’s singing about how fat you are and how you should start putting away 10% of your paycheck for a nose job! Weird song, Beyoncé.


Gemini (22 May – 21 June)

An errant charge appears on your credit card statement. You call MasterCard and reach Cindy, a customer service representative. You explain to her the dilemma; she asks for your card number, address, security code, mother’s maiden name, etc., etc. “Okey dokey, let me see what I can do here,” she says. “Just give me a moment.” There is an awkwardly long period of silence, during which Cindy is ostensibly waiting for relevant information to load on her computer. This silence extends for ages until suddenly she breaks in: “So how’s the weather over there in Boston? Cold?” “That… would be an understatement,” you say. “Is it cold where you are?” “No sir, I’m in Kentucky. I don’t even know what you do when it gets that cold.” “Oh, you know, we stay inside wallowing in our own filth until we’re overcome with depression either to the point of suicide or committing an act of arson.” She chuckles. You chuckle. Soon you’re both laughing. Turns out you both like to watch entire trilogies on DVD when you’re stuck in the house. You both play tennis (when it’s warm). You both happen to be reading the exact same book right now, All The King’s Men, which has been sitting on each of your shelves for years. “I cannot believe that!” Cindy says. “That is so crazy. Wow.” She pauses. “You know what would be fun? If maybe we got together sometime.” “Yeah,” you say, “sure, that would be fun.” “I’m serious,” says Cindy. “I know it sounds nuts, but I’m so lonely out here, and this is the nicest conversation I’ve had in the last year.” “Oh,” you say. “Honestly,” says Cindy. “Come to me.” “Uh, I don’t kno—” “Come to me. I’ll make it worth your while. Come to me. Tonight.” “Tonight! Are you —” “Book a ticket on the next flight out here and I’ll make it vanish from your statement. Trust me. Just come.” So you go, Gemini. Out the door. Into a cab. And to the airport.


Cancer (22 June – 22 July)

Go to Logan Airport, find a Gemini, and tell him he’s just been punk’d.


Leo (23 July – 22 August)

A nickel saved is a nickel learned, and a bird in the hand is worth two in the tush. Venus tilts a quarter degree on its axis this week, causing you to use more idiomatic phrases than usual, but in the process to misstate them ever so slightly. So don’t bite off more than you can masticate, because even if you are the phlegm de la phlegm, even after a month of Tuesdays you still might find yourself stranded up fecal creek.


Virgo (23 August – 23 September)

Don’t forget: this is the week to perform the quadrennial ritual where you curl up on the couch with a six-pack of Red Stripe and re-watch Cool Runnings. “Feel the rhythm! Feel the rhyme! Get on up, it’s bobsled time!” Just, you know, indoor voice. What with the new Jamaican neighbor. And so forth.


Libra (24 September – 23 October)

Stock up on rubber bands. You’re gonna need them. Christ are you gonna need them.


Scorpio (24 October – 22 November)

Darling, welcome to fashion week! Would you like some champagne? No love, I’m sorry, we only have white drinks—our insurance policy forbids red (well with all the art, and the fabrics… you understand). But here, have a glass. No, no, I insist. Salut! Excuse me? What do you mean champagne makes you vomit? Oh lord Jesus, you’re actually vomiting. On my Fornasetti pillows. I honestly don’t know if the policy covers this. Honey, would you mind folding this drunken man into the dumbwaiter?


Sagittarius (23 November – 21 December)

That Google Alert finally pays off: “dog droppings spontaneously combust, setting elite gated community ablaze.”


Capricorn (22 December – 20 January)

This is a big week for you, Capricorn, a big week. Eat your Wheaties, because this sure is gonna be a big week. Make sure you get enough sleep. In fact, you should probably sleep the entirety of this weekend, because you’re gonna need the rest, and even if you do that you still may not be able to stockpile enough energy to handle the raw, brute force that this week is going to slam you with. I’m talkin’ a big, big week. The kind of week that feels like a year. The kind of year that feels like a lifetime. The kind of lifetime that feels like a multitudimensional eternity; the kind of eternity that banishes the mundane, eradicates the banal, throws out the quotidian and replaces it with milestone after mind-blowing milestone, watershed moment upon game-changing watershed moment, and cliché upon eye-popping cliché.


Astro Guide appears every Monday in The Weather.

Brian Reed lives in New York City—if you can even call what he does “living.” He’s a producer at the public radio show This American Life, and he’s followable on Twitter and Instagram @brihreed.