Why Horoscopes Are Crap

Week 35 has not been my most favorite week of the year. All week I’ve been struggling against a cold and something that borders on a very mild flu. On top of that, I spend half of my working week in meetings. Or rather, several parts of the same meeting. Four o’clock this afternoon, I’ve had enough and went home.

When I arrived in Amersfoort, I went to my bike. Or rather, I went to the place where I left my bike that morning, as it wasn’t there any longer. All I could find was the cable that I plugged into the lock that morning. One would assume that some scoundrel found out I had one of those crappy AXA locks you can easily open with a blank key. For years I’ve been saying that, in theory, I could just leave my bike unlocked, as I would pay good money to see your average bike-stealing thug ride away on it. Apart from being 10 years old and getting a bit wobbly, it still was a pretty decent and pretty oversized bike. As in fucking huge. Oh, well. Getting mad over it isn’t going to get me my bike back. So I got myself a rather inexpensive, secondhand and not as large bike right away. Along with a serious looking lock. Reporting it stolen will probably be an exercise in futility and just for the statistics, since I don’t suppose the police will actually go out and track it down.

But did you think my horoscope predicted any of this? No sir, they didn’t.