Kicking Off My Virgo Prep Journey
So I figured, since Virgo season’s rolling around again, why not actually prep like they suggest instead of winging it? Grabbed my coffee last Sunday morning—super strong, obviously—and plopped down at the kitchen table with my beat-up planner. Flipped to May 2025, stared at those empty squares, and went, “Alright, let’s do this properly for once.”
Started by scribbling down everything buzzing in my head. Bills due, dentist appointment I’ve dodged since February, that pile of clothes needing donation. Just dumped it all out on three crumpled sticky notes. Felt kinda chaotic, but whatever. Next, opened my moon phase app—not even an astrology app, just something telling me when the dang moon’s full—and circled important dates in red pen. Got overly excited and drew little stars everywhere. Messy? Yep.
Organizing the Chaos Phase
Got ruthless after lunch. Took each sticky note and asked: “Does this actually matter?” Trashed half. Organized the rest into two lists:
- Stuff I must do—like paying bills
- Stuff I should do—like finally cleaning under the sink
Felt adult-ish. Then I chunked the “should do” tasks:
- One sink cabinet per week? Doable.
- Email pile? Fifteen minutes every Tuesday morning—set a phone alarm.
Ran into drama, though. My wifi crapped out midway through researching Mercury retrograde dates. Nearly threw my laptop. Settled for scribbling potential bad days in pencil based on last year’s mess-ups. Added buffer days around ’em—zero appointments allowed. Not taking chances again.
My Virgo Survival Kit Assembly
Went full goblin mode prepping tools. Made a “Virgo Emergency Box”—sounds extra, I know—but trust me. Tossed in:
- Spare phone chargers (lost mine three times last month)
- Granola bars (hangry Virgo = chaotic Virgo)
- Extra pens stolen from hotel lobbies
Also scheduled “buffer blocks” everywhere. Told my clients I’d be offline Wednesday afternoons. Put it in bold. No guilt.
Final step? Wrote down three non-negotiable breaks weekly: Thrift store digging, no-tech walks, and burning cheap incense even if it’s tacky. Prioritized breathing over productivity for once. Wild.
The Aftermath & Why Bother
Ended day with half the sticky notes crumpled on the floor, my cat sleeping on the Virgo box, and five pages of aggressively highlighted to-do’s. But my shoulders weren’t up to my ears. Weirdly peaceful knowing where the landmines were.
Three days in? Broke two pens and missed one email block. Didn’t panic. Checked the box, ate a granola bar, moved the task. That buffer space thing? Lifesaver when the sink leaked unexpectedly. Felt smug.
Lessons? Prep ain’t about perfection. It’s about knowing where your dumpster fires might spark—and having a bucket nearby. Still got weeks to go, but damn, it beats white-knuckling May.
