The Year of the Rat begins at midnight. Run for your life.
You will run out of things to say the next time you go to a dinner party.
The next dinner party at your house will include a nekkid child running through the living room. It will not be your child.
Insist on paying the bill with bitcoin.
Your living room will be the site of the Simon and Garfunkel reunion concert.
ignoring boson because they aren’t following the rules
Art Garfunkel will eat all your peanut butter.
I hope you don’t have a peanut allergy . . . or that you haven’t eaten the cookie yet.
Fun fact: an allergy can begin at any time, even in late adulthood!
You are not having any fun yet.
You are not the people my parents warned me about.
An IRS auditor is parked outside your home.
Outside of a rogue meteor strike, there is little prospect for lasting change.
Outside of a dog, a book is your best friend. Inside a dog, it’s too dark to read.
Never book a flight on a Tuesday.
Tuesday Weld ate here all the time, until she didn’t.
You will soon enter a dark little room that will roll away.
(psst @boson - the idea is a series - similar to the “domino” threads. Take one element from the prior fortune and use that for yours; bolding the element. For example, your fortune could have been “On Tuesday, you will enter a dark little room that will roll away.” If that had been your fortune, mine might be…)
You can no longer rock nor roll.
You will encounter a rockfish and not be able to decide whether to eat it or acquire several more and line your garden path.
(oh, Doctor, that’s the third time [and maybe not the last] I had forgotten that rule. Thanks for the reminder. Can you prescribe something? I’ll check my local Walgreens)
Your path home tonight will take you sixty miles out of your way. You have something to accomplish there.
Massive wealth is headed your way. Ever wonder what kind of damage 10,000,000,000 pennies can inflict?