We bought a painting of a monkey at a benefit auction a couple of months ago. The artist painted it in honor of the Chinese New Year.
I know next to nothing about Chinese astrology, but the painting ended up being one of those things I HAD TO HAVE, because that’s generally the way I approach charity. We took it home with some ballet tickets and a certificate for a month’s worth of guitar lessons.
I was procrastinating recently and looked up “Year of the Monkey,” – procrastination being generally the way I approach life – which is how I found out I was actually born in a monkey year, and that monkey years are supposed to be mostly disastrous for us monkeys.
This discovery lead to the following conversation with Mike:
Me: Hey, did you know it’s the year of the monkey, and I was born in a monkey year?
Me: That means 2016 is supposed to be a disaster for me, mostly, especially in health and my love life. …. And I’m supposed to be cautious about traffic.
Mike: What do you care about the Chinese Zodiac? You’re German. And Irish.
Me: It also says I’m to expect significant financial gain in 2016.
Mike: … Well, maybe you’re a little Chinese.
Just so we’re clear, I’m married to someone who’s okay with my being a disaster in love and health as long as I bring home the bacon.