The whole problem, apparently, is that Mercury is retrograde.
Scoff all you like, my friends, but when this jolly astrological jester clobbers you in the financial goolies, you may well start to wonder whether I’m right. Or whether my daughter is right, she being the one who pointed it out to me last night. Mercury retrograde messes with travel, communications, technology and timing, Google tells me, and so far this year, it’s managed to stuff up my DVD player, my bed lamp, the date for my cataract operation, my microwave, and – latest to go – my printer.
I didn’t tell you about the printer, did I. But in fact the microwave was only half the day’s saga. No sooner was it installed than the nice computer man rang to tell me my new printer had arrived – the old one having ravaged its print heads last week. Another trip out, though not so far, and another cumbersome box, though not so heavy, to lug up the stairs. With my new-found knowledge about Mercury, I’m tempted to delay its installation until the planets are aligned again, in case it decides to curdle the insides of my computer in the process.
Meanwhile a friend has kindly carried the old microwave downstairs, the buttons on my home phone are suspiciously dozy, and I’m enjoying the chicken sausages. (Grilled.)