If I’m being honest—though it’s rare that I’m not—astrology sounds like bologna to me. I haven’t tried to untangle the trickery of it; I just remember looking up why it’s considered a pseudoscience, and one website mentioned that it doesn’t evolve and that horoscopes are written to feel specific while actually being super general. The same can be said about the supposed personality traits, too.

At the same time, I’ve often felt like a true-blue Libra. I’ve read descriptions of other signs and never felt like they fit me. But I still firmly believe astrology is bunk. Why planets and stars and the moon—if that’s even part of it—and whatever they’re doing at the exact moment you appear in the world would shape who you are as a person is beyond me. And here’s my random side thought: I’ve always wondered if the recorded times are even accurate. Whether someone is born or dies, what if they write down 2:53, but the clock is actually a few minutes off and the real time is 2:56? Does that mean your whole birth chart is thrown off? Or is there some kind of arbitrary grace period built in for sloppy timekeeping?

I don’t know. Right now I’m exhausted from mowing the lawn in what feels like the ninth circle of hell located in Satan’s armpit—also known as Florida summer—while I wait on groceries because my cupboards are bare. I rarely write, even though I want to, and since I haven’t exercised that muscle in a long time, this is what came out in my current delirium.

You’re welcome.