Damn this Mercury retrograde.
I don’t know about the rest of you, but ever since August 1st (when the effects of Mercury’s apparent backward period first started being felt), nothing has seemed to work right. Phones don’t work properly, plans seem to never materialize, and rum cocktails are spilled on my pants (I’ll explain later). Even the most simple, elementary tasks have been derailed by the minor details.
To start things off with a bang, everyone I know started having cellphone issues. Whether it was dead-zones where there was once full bars, text messages being delivered days late, or calls that came when the phone never rang, all of my friends and dears suddenly seemed to be a little harder to reach. Even some computers were going on the fritz. But I’m not one for the modern age of constant contact, so I wasn’t too bothered, even if I was a little inconvenienced. But conditions continued to deteriorate.
I had put on my finest outfit for the evening’s event. Some would say I looked dashing (though dazzling is the word I would use), but alas, my sartorial triumph was not meant to be. I had gone to pick up the evening’s libations from Old New Orleans Rum in the passenger seat of Dan Lawton‘s car. (Note: for those of you who don’t know, Dan Lawton is a local journalist of the highest order. His lack of a Pulitzer is proof of that prize’s diminishing worth.) The helpful smiling lady at ONO warned me the vessel in which we were transporting the drink was not completely air-tight. I failed to heed her warning though, and I let the booze rest quite precariously between my legs in the seat. Things could have turned out all right if Dan hadn’t put on his favorite album, thus causing me to dance rather enthusiastically. This is where things went wrong.
When we arrived back at the Fair Folks house, I walked inside to find the house jam-packed with fashionistas clamoring to own the stylish wears of Jolie and Elizabeth’s new line. I smiled at everyone, expecting them to be happy to see me, as I was the guy delivering the drinks. But the well-dressed ladies all stared at me and whispered as I passed. Paranoia set in. I began laughing uncomfortably until I could get to a private area. When I did, I discovered the source of their whispers: there was a comically large wet spot stretching from the seat of my pants to below my knees. Apparently there had been a slow leak in the rum. I was terribly embarrassed; the next several minutes were spent crying in the bathroom. I eventually sucked up my pride, changed pants, and spent the rest of the evening comfortably behind the bar.
One would hope that their misfortunes would end there. But no. In the days following, all aspects of my life would become unhinged. My bike was stolen; my computer broke; my electric razor died mid-shave; the scoop on top of my ice cream cone fell to the ground; and I read some terrible news. Attempts at philosophical optimism were made. “These things were meant to happen” I told myself; “I’m getting all of my bad luck out of the way so that I can have an unprecedented run of good fortune”. But just as I was about to lay myself on the train tracks and thumb my nose at the sky, I found out the true source of my problems: Mercury was in retrograde.
Maybe its a bit ridiculous to blame all of these problems on an astrological happening. But it sure makes me feel better, if not a bit more fearful. Until this thing passes, I’m stepping out of my house with a watchful eye. I’m not expecting much to come of any of my plans, no matter how well-laid they are. But Mercury returns to its regular rotational appearance this Sunday, the 12th, though amateur astrologers tell me we’ll feel its residuals until the 27th. When its all over, I propose we have a party to celebrate things getting back to normal. To cheer a return to uncorrupted communications. To usher in an era of peace and understanding.
That is, until Mercury goes retrograde again in December.
Until next time, folks.
“Everything is funny until someone takes it seriously”- Wylie Hoffman
“And then it becomes hilarious.”- Hassan Allen