We have a joke in the office. The joke is Queenie knows about astrology, and when weird planetary alignments occur, she warns everyone in the office.
And they all laugh at the weird Irish woman in the office.
And then it all goes Peter Tong because the SHIT IS REAL!
It's kinda like a weird grown-up-lady version of telling zombie stories in the tent with just a flashlight at summer camp.
Before you go for that last trip to the toilet pits....
So, last week, I let the Office LayDeez know... mercury is going retrograde again.
Three times a year.
Six weeks a time.
Plus the turbulence four days fore and aft.
That's a lotta days a year.
Retrograde Mercury's like a poltergeist - cars, computers, electronics, contracts, job offers, all that kind of necessary shit... it all goes pear-shaped. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz....psssssssssst... stuff breaks down, blows out, messes up... things you think are legally nailed suddenly take off and fly through the atmosphere.
You just avoid avoid avoid.
I've been pretty good at avoiding it, but the Universe has been gunning for me for a while as I have been floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee for far too long.
Today the little bastard got me.
Queenie had a day off.
Queenie's Day Off.
By Queenie.
5.40am. Get up. Shower. Put work clothes on.
6.10am. Drive Himself to work because Albert the Station Wagon is at the doctor with a potentially extremely expensive light on and a desire to stall constantly.
6.20am. Get to Himself's work 30 minutes early because Himself hates to be late.
Sit in carpark because it's raining and I still love him too much to make him stand in the rain despite the fact that I could still be in bed asleep.
6.47am. Leave carpark and drive 275km to Antigonish. Notice there are no other cars on the road because it's the Friday of a bank holiday weekend and everyone else is winding down, Nova Scotia-style.
9.18am. Get to Antigonish one hour early for meeting. Drive around Antigonish looking for nice alternative Fair Trade-type cafe for breakfast.
9.55am. Give up and order Tim Horton's Bacon Breakfast sandwich with no cheese.
10.05am. Eat THBBs with cheese.
10.06am. Gag on cheese.
10.10am. Try to pull out of Antigonish Main St. onto Hwy 104 at weird Yield Junction where speed limit is supposed to be 70kmh.
I have to paste this, because I can't write it again:
I've just come off my favourite highway - the 104 highway of death - and some cnut in a tandem truck just veered over and put me out of my lane, and put me ahead of the path of an suv doing about 150 so I just put my foot down and closed my eyes and said goodbye to you all.
After a moment the suv started beeping like crazy so I reckon I got ahead of him and woke him up.
O joyous life!!
That is the third time this has happened to me on this stretch of road.
Anyways..... I have a mad adrenalin rush on now!!!!!!! Jibber jibber jibber.......
1030am. Facilitate meeting between ten engineering types who have no intention of ever fucking agreeing about anything.
Get them to agree on what they disagree on. Facilitation 101.
11.59am. The weekend starts!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
12.01am. The car won't start.
Thirty minutes, three sets of cable, and a conclave of engineers later, the car starts, but I have to drive to Halifax without stopping to strengthen the battery and I only have half a tank of gas.
3.38pm. Glide into the Ultramar on Victoria Rd. on fumes, fill the car, pee (oh bliss), get a coffee, get a water, get a bar of chocolate, pay $80 for the lot, start the car again.
3.39pm. It starts!!!!!!!!!!!
And I would remind you boys and girls, that I am alive at this point, having nearly died earlier.
4.00pm. Pick up Himself at work where I left him in the rain nine hours earlier. Albert the Station Waggon needs a new fuel pump. $1200. Minimum. Plus $300 for the spark plugs.
Goddamn Mercury... you devil you.. you got me this time.....
But I'm ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Happy Victoria Day everyone... it's not about her, it's about VICTORY!!!!!!!!!!!!
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