You’re going to get one more chance to make it right. However, please note that in this case “it” refers not to your life but to beef Wellington.
Your life is becoming boring, particularly to the people watching through the little peepholes.
You’ll deliver triplets in an elevator this week, even though they aren’t due for three months and the elevator isn’t stuck.
You were brought up to love and fear God, but it’s women who you truly love and fear.
Your life has been a wonderful and varied symphony, but the bassoon, lower brass, and tympani are getting more minor-key solos this week.
You’ve always been ready for when push comes to shove, but you’ll be unprepared when push comes to uppercut, broken bottle, and meat saw.
You’ll fail to deal with a personal tragedy this week, wasting all of your time trying to determine whether you deserved it.
Your dream of becoming an accountant is ruined forever when economic circumstances force you to found and direct a modern dance troupe.
Though you consider yourself a master of anal sex, you’re just a strange combination of hyper-organization and raw sensuality.
Your future is wide open, an endless ocean of possibilities, as long as you do nothing that takes more than three days.
The stars have decided that your life needs no changes, at least from their perspective.
Drugs and alcohol are not the answer to your problems. Then again, hard work and self-reliance are, so drugs and alcohol will have to do.
