Mercury finally turned direct today.
This retrograde season has been just like going through a car wash with the sunroof open. Oh wait, did that.
I’m at the tail end of some 24-hour bug. So that’s a fitting end to all the cosmic nonsense.
I find I get sick a lot more than I used to. Probably because when I go out, I go OUT.
My friend Tony had asked in Vegas if Mom passed at home. I said yes and he said omg you have got to move.
I said no I like my place. And if you’ve seen the median South Florida rent prices, mine is well below that.
But … now that I think more about it, I am fine when I leave the house.
Like I felt yucky Friday, totally went out and partied it up Saturday, then couldn’t even keep Pepto Bismol down yesterday.
And in true retrograde form, my toilet stopped flushing after I barfed up Friday’s breakfast yesterday. On Sunday.
Anyway, how did I go throw back margaritas with no problem 48 hours ago?
Gram used to always say, “It’s the house’s fault.” She blamed the house for everything.
I wonder if that’s actually true here.
I really do like it here. I didn’t always. But it’s easy to get to Orlando or the Keys. And the airport is a seven-minute drive away.
OK, so what I like about it, is it’s easy to leave.
My second cat sitter just quit on me. She too is leaving the state. So the kids are going to be on their own for me to go to Orlando for Mickey’s Halloween Party.
In any event, if everyone is buying property out of state, is it a sign I should, too?
Though one of my people just told me she’s moving to Greece. It was supposed to be Paris but she changed her mind at the last minute.
Sounds better than Alabama, right?
I wonder if it IS the house’s fault that I only feel good when I’m out of it.