There’s always got to be one, cute Mercury story. Being an astute student of astrology, and being aware of the current planetary dispositions, I carefully logged onto the CapMetro site and purchased my monthly pass, long before Mr. Mercury turned around in his apparent trajectory.
I didn’t realize that I hadn’t received the pass, conveniently mailed to me, until May 1.
Dig out the old email confirmation, fire off a note, and then, I realized that there was something else I needed to add to the note…
“Look, as a regular follower of the stars’ and their paths, well, planets, mostly, I’m aware that Mercury, who rules communication, is in apparent retrograde motion, looks like he’s going backwards compared to the rest of the planets’ more orderly direction, and as such, it’s no big deal. Don’t sweat it, it’s just a ruse of the planet’s.”
I had one weird as could be Friday afternoon. But I was also prepared. I was dressed in shorts that double as swimming togs, and I purposely left the bulk of pocket digital [battery operated> stuff behind just so I could hit the creek on the way home.
My cell started ringing in the afternoon, and I inundated with calls. By the time six rolled around, I was standing at the bus stop, arranging for work at an event, and what wound up, as I was wandering down Barton Springs Road, I made a half – dozen calls, and they all started out with, “hey baby, I’ve missed you so…”
In my tired voice, none of the females I was reaching cared. Friday afternoon, it’s unseasonably humid, not too warm, but torpid in a way usually reserved for later in the season.
I did arrange reading, well-paid party event, I did book a friend’s wife in for some extra work, I did all of this, and smirking to myself, thinking, “Boy howdy, ain’t you just a womanizer?” Which would be true until you stop and realize that there was no real romantic interest with any of the females I was talking with. All business.
At least it sounded good.
Cool dip in the pool, and some fine-as-could be rajas, poblano strips and cheese enchiladas for dinner.
I think one of the last calls was the funniest, as it involved food, and a Pisces that was inadvertently strapped for cash, so I offered to buy, and a Sagittarius.
“Yeah. Dinner. It’ll be a like a ménage-a-trois.”
She repeated the comment, and in the background, a loud “Eewww!”
At least it sounded good.
