One rainy night last January I went to bed at 8. My house was messy, I was coming down with a cold, and three credit card bills from holiday shopping sprees had arrived earlier that day. For a while I slept soundly. When I awoke from a bad dream, it was pitch black. The power had gone out: The dial of my bedside clock was dark. Outside, the storm's drizzle had grown to a downpour. Strong winds slammed tree branches against the house. Then, amazingly, a bird began singing a cheerful tune. Unfazed by the pummeling gale and deluge, it took its time as it calmly unleashed a sinuous, buoyant stream of riffs. I predict that this week, Scorpio, you will experience an equivalent miracle.
