Daily horoscope

This morning, I woke up, got the coffee going, and went to the door to retrieve the morning paper. I opened the door and looked down expectantly at my doormat, but alas, no paper. This is the second time in a week that my paper boy didn't come. Yes, I have an image of a 12 year-old boy earning a little spending money, riding his bike and hurling my paper up 3 flights of stairs so that it lands perfectly on my doormat.

I called the office to let them know that once again, my paper didn't arrive. They apologized and said they'd send someone out right away. Gotta love smallish towns. Around 11AM, there was a knock at my door. I opened the door and there stood the world's oldest man, holding my paper. I was crushed. No future hall-of-famer earning a little extra cash, no bike with a bell on the handle-bars, no freckles, no chewing gum, no cap, no impish grin. Nope, just Grampa, permanently stooped into a curve. I took the paper and thanked him for coming all the way out (from the nursing home, or maybe the grave.) I watched to make sure that he made it back down the stairs. Then I thought, "Well, if the climb up didn't kill him, he should be OK on way down."

About an hour later, I settled on the couch with my lunch and read the news of the day. Here is my horoscope, exactly as printed in the paper:

Strange things are afoot if you should find yourself lurking around a convenience store. Remember that you probably don't need the tantalizing wares of unhealthful repute.

I read it several times, and have finally accepted that it says just that. Call me crazy, but this doesn't sound like a prediction to me. It sounds like a pregnant woman's conscience. It's like those fortunes you get in fortune cookies - the ones that say, "Drink more water for a clear complexion." This isn't a fortune. It's advice. They should call them advice cookies, because calling them fortune cookies is just false advertising.

But, back to my non-horoscope: I must admit that "strange things" would be "afoot" if I found myself "lurking around a convenience store." First of all, I don't lurk. Second, I don't go to convenience stores. Something about the convenience of it all gives me the creeps and makes me feel lazy. I'm someone who prefers to get my Starbucks beans at Starbucks, not a bookstore. I like to get my books at a bookstore, not Cracker Barrel. I'm going to stop now because I'm starting to sound like Andy Rooney. You get the point. I don't want a steak at Waffle House.

Finally, if I want to be tantalized by "wares of unhealthful repute," I'm certainly not going to a convenience store. "Unhealthful repute" takes on a whole new meaning in those places. Which wares are they referring to? The hot dogs that date back to the Kennedy adminstration? (Seriously, you can chop them open and count the rings.) Or maybe they mean the doughnuts and bearclaws that you could bounce quarters off of. They probably mean the vat of soda in a cup so big, you need two hands and a forklift to get it off the counter. Call me a snob, but none of this sounds tantalizing. Certainly not tantalizing enough to violate my "no lurking" policy.

Anyway, I'm relieved to report that apparently nothing was afoot today, as evidenced by the fact that I did not lurk at a convenience store, leering at the "wares of unhealthful repute" that I probably don't need.