A Crisis Before the First Coffee

It all starts with the light switch: a week ago you could walk into the kitchen by window light, today you can't find your own slippers without the lamp, and for some reason this small fact grows into a question about where life is headed. While the coffee brews you manage to rethink your career, and in the elevator you're already reading “How to Know It's Time to Change Everything,” though all that really needs changing is the hallway bulb 🙃

🌘 Before dawn, ahead of the alarm, the Moon passes right by Uranus — a conjunction, and in astrology Uranus is in charge of sudden change, preferably all of it at once. It shows up louder than the situation calls for: the idea of quitting and moving to the sea arrives fully formed, with a plan and a budget, at the exact minute you're looking for your second sock.

Autumn tiredness is actually simple: September took about two hours of daylight, yesterday's lunch happened mid-afternoon, and sleep came after the third episode. Keats got a season of mists and mellow fruitfulness; we got a resignation letter in the notes app for the first of October.

By late afternoon the Moon finds common ground with Saturn, and after lunch and a walk to the bakery the crisis shrinks to the size of ordinary Thursday tiredness. The letter stays in drafts, next to the Italian course and the idea of getting a dog, and the evening goes the way a Thursday evening should: under a blanket, with no life-changing decisions 🐕

Keats got a season of mists and mellow fruitfulness; we got a resignation letter in the notes app.