I’m a sucker for a horoscope. They’re lousy at predictions, but I often find that they know exactly where I’ve been. I used to love the scroll horoscopes, the ones in the drugstore next to the cash registers. A close friend, now gone, got me hooked. We’d buy them every month and read them aloud to each other, wondering whether someone had been following us around for the last month and we just hadn’t noticed.
I can’t find them anymore, so now I resort to a free monthly website. It’s often wildly inaccurate, but it makes me laugh. This month, for example, is supposed to be a financial blockbuster: money should be pouring in from all sorts of unexpected sources all month long.
No, January is my annual financial hangover month, where I wake up and wonder if I’ve been shopping in my sleep. There’s Christmas, of course, and year-end donations. My auto insurance is due in January, particularly ironic this year, seeing as how I’ll be car-shopping this month (my engine’s dying). My computer is five years old, and while Macs are reliable, the hard drive on my last computer crashed, and believe me when I say that I don’t want to go there again. It will need software, too.
I was out of town, so had to refill the fridge with groceries. Found a couple of shirts in a style I’d been looking for for months, so bought two and got free shipping. My hair desperately needs a cut, and I was out of the stuff that’s supposed to cut down on wrinkles (yes, I’m a sucker). I’m low on vitamins, too. Then there are the regular bills: utilities, loans, mortgage. And the plumber sucked some money out of my wallet last month when he installed the sump pump.
If I had a magic wand, I’d cast a spell on my bank account and keep it brimming. But Harry Potter doesn’t live here, so I’ll have to work my own kind of financial magic: smoke and mirrors and a little sleight of hand. Then I’ll pray it gets me through until the tax refund comes.