Hoboscopes: February 28, 2023

PISCES

Lately my phone keeps giving me an alert to reenter the password for my old email account. I’ll get around to it eventually, Pisces, but today I’ll just click “dismiss” another 14 times and then take care of it when I’ve got a moment to focus. I’ll probably have to reset the password and it might take a few steps. I guess when I say this has been happening “lately” I mean ever since I’ve had this phone. Which is still pretty new. Less than four years old, I think. The point is, Pisces, that I’ll get around to reentering that password when I’ve got a few extra minutes to myself. It’s possible, Pisces, that we have to make the time we need to take care of those little things that are stealing our time by the second. I mean, anything’s possible.

ARIES

And the award for my favorite sign in the Zodiac goes to…the envelope please…But before I open the envelope, Aries, I want you to think about this moment we’re in. That little drum-roll between having a guess, a hope, a fear and then suddenly you know. And the win might be spectacular. The defeat might be devastating. Within minutes the ecstatic, rambling victor is being played-off by the band. And then it’s over, Aries. And the discomfort of unknowing slowly begins to build again. So before I open this envelope, let’s sit in this space together and just not know. You’ve already got a guess who my favorite is, anyway.

TAURUS

The sun is out! Let’s have a pool party, Taurus! Call Gemini and see if we can use her grill. I’ll pick up some chips and some ice and WHOA!!! Hang on! It’s still freezing out here! I definitely should have put on something besides these zodiac-themed swim trunks. I guess just because the sun is shining we can’t assume we’re in the clear. But we’re not wrong, Taurus. We’re just early. Let’s head back inside for some hot chocolate. You can keep your floaties on. Our time is coming.

GEMINI

I heard you recently issued an official statement condemning all of the bad things and praising all of the good ones. That’s great news, Gemini, now everybody knows you’ve been paying attention. But what are you going to do next? It’s one thing to announce that you’ve noticed the difference. It takes another couple of steps before you’re actually helping anybody. It’s worth it, though. If you get good at it, you might even forget to make an official statement.

CANCER

You can save 5 percent on today’s horoscope by enrolling in auto-ship! Receive a block of text like this one every month without the hassle of running out or repeated reorders. Ready to enroll? Simply do nothing. Your life will continue on in much the way it is now. You’ll have the same familiar fears and avoidance behaviors. You’ll feel a lot like you do today every day. But if you’d rather change something, Cancer, you have an option to decline this service. What’s the smallest change you could make for the better? You probably already know.

LEO

Quick, Leo, what do magicians, elephants and swimmers have in common? That’s right! They all have trunks. What about Cheetos, Detroit and MGM Pictures? Whoa, you’re good at this! They all have mascots that are big cats. All right, you’ll know this one for sure, how do better sleep, more water and less self-criticism go together? You can’t think of anything? That’s you, next week, Leo! Actually, you can start right now. Fill up that cup and know that you’re doing it right.

VIRGO

The old toaster had a little dial with a picture of a light-tinted slice of bread next to a dark-tinted slice of bread. If you turned the dial toward the dark slice, your toast would come out burnt. If you turned the dial toward the light slice, almost nothing would happen at all. I assumed I was just using it wrong. I tried interrupting the dark-cycle early. I tried repeat-runs on the light-setting. The usual result was still charred-crust or vaguely-warmed bread. Then I remembered what the poets say, “The purpose of a system is what it does.” So I got a new toaster with a little digital timer that makes perfect toast. What failing system will you replace today, Virgo?

LIBRA

The rain is nice, Libra, but I’m getting tired of all the mud. I guess the grass just hasn’t grown enough yet to hold everything in place, and whenever I walk through the yard I track some gunk up the stairs and across the porch. Even if I take my shoes off at the front door I end up with muddy socks, or caked-up pant-legs. There’s mud flakes on the kitchen floor and in the folds of the futon. I open the refrigerator and mud spills out of every drawer. It bubbles from the HVAC vents and crusts across the curtains. “But the rain is nice” I whisper, as mud finally consumes me whole, pulling me under with a thick wet flop. Watch what you’re tracking into your house, Libra. This stuff builds up.

SCORPIO

I always have to interrupt when people get upset about a new movie and say things like, “This is the worst film in the history of cinema!” because I know they’re wrong. I know because when I was 9 years old, my friend Tim and his cousin Toby and I spent an afternoon shooting a sequel to E.T. on Tim’s dad’s Camcorder. I don’t remember many specifics, but there was a skateboard chase and several lightsaber fights. Whatever movie you’re talking about, it was worse. We also had a blast making it. Actually, Scorpio, rather than sitting here talking about the worst movies of all time, why don’t we get up and make something. Even if it’s terrible, it’ll be a better use of our time.

SAGITTARIUS

Most of the time, Sagittarius, my mind does not incline toward gratitude. It’s not that I lack anything. I have a place to rest, a place to work, food to eat, and a deaf dog to tell my troubles to. But I expect those things to be there for me. I take them for granted. So I’m trying to practice noticing the real gifts in what I’ve been treating as the bare minimum. I find I’m grateful for this chair, for hands that will work, for the buttered banana bread on my plate, and for this old dog’s sweet empty ears. You can try it too if you want, Sagittarius. Start where you’re sitting.

CAPRICORN

I went to the dentist for a filling and now the left side of my lip and jaw are totally numb. They said I’m not supposed to eat anything because I might end up chewing on my own cheek and I wouldn’t even know it. So, sitting here at lunchtime, not eating anything, I started to think about the other ways I’ve been numb. The suffering I’ve ignored from people right next to me. How I’ve pushed away uncomfortable realities as “not my responsibility” because it’s easier to go on not feeling. And as I thought about all those things, I noticed a little tingle in my lip. The feeling is coming back, Capricorn. It might hurt a little extra at first, after all, you’ve been chewing on your own cheek — but let it come. And don’t go numb again.

AQUARIUS

I didn’t want to scrape the ice off my windshield this morning. Isn’t it spring yet? Why should I have to do extra work? So I just didn’t. I started the car and squinted through a little clear spot under the windshield wipers and tried to aim for the stop sign at the end of the block. I guess that’s mostly why I’m stuck with my front two wheels in the air and my back two in this koi pond. I wonder, Aquarius, if there’s sometimes some extra work we have to do on ourselves even though it doesn’t seem fair. I’m starting to think that might be the only way to get where we’re trying to go.