The whole thing started because I completely screwed up my schedule for a massive work presentation. It wasn’t just a regular Tuesday meeting; this was the one where they decided who got the big budget for the next quarter. I’m a Virgo, right? And I absolutely thrive on planning, making lists, getting every single detail locked down. But that week, I felt like my brain was swimming in soup. I missed an email, I totally misread a deadline, and I walked into that room unprepared, feeling like I’d forgotten how to breathe.
I got home feeling sick to my stomach. My partner, bless their soul, always jokes about me checking my horoscope when things go south. This time, I didn’t laugh. I actually went and pulled up every single scrap of Virgo prediction I could find for that specific week back in 2024. I wasn’t looking for comfort; I was looking for a pattern. I wanted to see if the stars were the ones messing with me, or if I just needed to admit I was the problem.
The Messy Process of Compiling the Dates
I didn’t trust the glossy, quick-read stuff. I needed the real dirt. So, my whole “practice” was about digging deep. I started with one of those super technical astrology forums, the kind where they throw around words like “trine” and “retrograde” without batting an eye. I didn’t understand half of it, but I figured if it was complicated, it must be closer to the source.
This is what the practice turned into. It was a massive digital scavenger hunt, and I logged every small detail that seemed to repeat across different sources:
- I searched for the exact dates Saturn was doing something weird in Pisces—that seemed to be the big warning sign everyone was yelling about. I wrote down the start and end times in a massive spreadsheet.
- I compared that to the moon phases, specifically the Full Moon in Libra. I read that Libra Full Moons are all about relationships and balance, and maybe that’s why my work team was so awful to deal with that week.
- I tracked three different online predictors, the ones that give you a daily score out of five stars, and I cross-referenced the lowest-rated days. If all three gave me a ‘1 Star’ for a certain day, that immediately got flagged as an “Important Date You Should Not Miss,” even if it just meant “Don’t sign anything today.”
- Then, I went back and matched those flagged dates with my actual 2024 calendar. I matched the super low-score day to the exact hour I messed up the presentation deck. I matched a supposedly “lucky” date to the day I finally got a small victory after the disaster.
I spent maybe three full evenings just doing this—ignoring dinner, ignoring emails, just staring at celestial maps and my own embarrassing calendar entries. I realized that the “Important Dates” weren’t just the dates where good stuff happened. They were the dates where the pressure was highest, where the chances of either total success or total disaster were through the roof.
The Realization After the Fact
I wasn’t trying to predict the future. The real power of this process, of compiling this retrospective “horoscope,” was realizing that I’d been walking blindly through an obvious storm. The feeling of being “off” that week wasn’t just a coincidence; every chart, every prediction, every random blogger who knew their stuff was pointing to exactly the kind of energy shift that makes a meticulous Virgo drop the ball. It was a week for deep, messy emotional stuff, not for sharp, precise business logic.
I pulled together the final list—the complete next week horoscope, which, by the way, I compiled months after the fact—and I saw my failure staring right back at me. It wasn’t about fate; it was about preparation. If I’d known how chaotic the energy was supposed to be, I would have rescheduled that meeting, or at least checked my work three extra times.
That presentation? I ended up losing the budget, and the whole thing cost me a few months of smooth sailing at work. But here’s the kicker: the guy who got the budget instead was the same one who totally trashed me in a meeting a few months earlier, publicly questioning my numbers. He got the promotion too, and he’s been sitting in that office ever since.
I only know that because when I finally decided to move jobs a few months later, I saw them post my old position—the one I was working so hard to keep—and the starting salary was suddenly listed a full twenty percent higher than what they were paying me back then.
