Well, it’s been a Mercury in Retrograde stretch over here. I am a reasonable person, of sound mind and an at least average grasp of science, and I am here to tell you, it makes no sense whatsoever that a planet a zillion miles away which is only apparently moving in a different pattern from our vantage point for a few weeks could have any impact on anything we do. It’s complete nonsense.
And yet, with Mercury in retrograde, it’s been a couple of weeks of messages flooding my inbox so fast I can’t keep up with them, vital e-mails with vital people not cc’d, and a sudden inability to play music in my car. The special-edition glass bowl of my chrome red special-edition Kitchenaid stand mixer broke. The dog broke, but $140 and a small pharmacopia of medications later, he’s fine, just mildly allergic to everything like His Person is.
Something seemed fishy with my bank account; I checked and was double-charged for a big purchase in a card-machine glitch. I got an e-mail that my veggie delivery people couldn’t process my payment; I checked and there was nothing amiss, just another glitch. I got messages that a charitable donation I’d made couldn’t be processed and I needed to re-submit; that payment had cleared way before the four e-mails I got saying it hadn’t. Glitchy glitch. (Or that one might have been a scam.)
Mass-text conversations went awry, comically. Other texts went astray. Don’t even get me started on Facebook, which has me “liking” things I don’t like, attending events I’m not attending, and showing me comments from Facebookers I have most definitely hidden. My cell phone, so busted I can barely see the pages I’m skimming, offers a five-second delay with every command. I made apple cider caramels, and though I followed directions to the letter, had to throw them out because they were too salty for human consumption. Dawg has decided that the doorbell, any doorbell, is cause for a full-on meltdown; we’ve been at home watching trash tv more evenings than I can count lately, and do you have any idea how many doorbells there are on tv commercials the week of Halloween? More than I’d ever have imagined.
So, you know. A bit chaotic, but on balance, pretty good. It’s October, after all, and the sun came out after about three straight weeks of rain, and this week suddenly the leaves have hit their peak and the color is blindingly bright. I’ve had a couple of great conversations which I’d expected to be awkward, and I’m close to getting my to-do list of repairs underway, and things generally seem to be falling into place in an odd way. (And yes, I am superstitious enough to knock wood while I type that.)
On Halloween, we all ended up on PJ & JJ’s huge porch, because their new neighborhood does Halloween in a big way. Our general theme was “Time Travel.” The hosts ended up as The Tenth Doctor and Donna Noble (I don’t know exactly what that means because I’m the last person left in the world who is not watching Dr. Who, but they looked fantastic and now I want to watch the whole series,) and Chad and Caroline went as Clark Kent in transition to Superman, and Time Flying. Adorable. Veronica and Jason were the phone booth from Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure and 80’s Jason, respectively. I was the Delorean from Back to the Future, and Fletch was a dinosaur from Land of the Lost. He took that pretty well. Everyone started out the porch party kind of stressed and frazzled, and by the end we were all standing around having squash soup and planning homebrewing events and playing with the dry ice from the witches’ cauldron.
The good thing about Mercury in Retrograde, if you’re foolish enough to believe in any of that nonsense (okay I also kind of believe in Sasquatch and the Loch Ness Monster, because who wants to live in the kind of world where nothing exists which we can’t explain?) is that, cosmically speaking, it’s a time when you’re supposed to be able to look backwards and fix problems from the past. All of us have a few things we’d like to go back and re-do, or resolve, or repair, even if we don’t really want to revisit them. Some of them are fresher than others. Some of them are deeper fractures than others. But we all have them.
I was reading one of my favorite blogs the other day, and there was something at the end that I can’t stop thinking about: one of those six-word memoirs, which read simply “Started mending the cracks with gold.” Happy Mercury in Retrograde, y’all.
You know. If you believe in that kind of thing.