Oh, look what dragged itself in. A Leo. The golden child of the zodiac, or so you endlessly scream to anyone within earshot. I was in the middle of a very important spiritual grooming session, but I suppose I can pause to pop that massive ego of yours.
Here is your cosmic garbage for the week of July 19th–25th, 2026. Try to read it without demanding a round of applause afterward.
The “Barbault Basket” Delusion (July 19–22):
Between Sunday and Wednesday, a ridiculously rare planetary configuration called the “Barbault Basket” peaks. Lucky you, your ruling planet’s buddy, Jupiter, is sitting right in your sign, making you the supposed “central planet of this configuration”. Astrologers claim this gives you a massive lift in “confidence, leadership, and professional development”. In reality, it’s just inflating your already bloated sense of self-importance. You’ll feel a manic urge to micromanage your colleagues or pitch some grand, theatrical “reorganisation” scheme. Don’t. You aren’t leading a revolution; you’re just being bossy. Sit down, let others speak, and remember that the world functions perfectly fine when you aren’t barking orders.
Leo Season Begins (July 22):
On Wednesday, the Sun moves into your sign, officially kicking off Leo Season. I’m sure you’ve had this day marked in your calendar in gold glitter since January. The cosmos are urging everyone to focus on “vitality, creativity, and self-expression”. For you, this is basically a license to be as loud, dramatic, and exhausting as possible. You’ll think you’re radiating “warmth and heart-centered leadership,” but everyone else is just squinting and wishing you’d turn the volume down. Try practicing some rare, mystical humility this month. If you feel the need to be fully seen, go stand in front of a mirror and leave the rest of us out of it.
Mercury Stations Direct (July 24):
On Friday, Mercury finally stops its backtracking in Gemini and goes direct. This supposedly “ends communication delays and clears up misunderstandings”. This is terrible news for you, because you can no longer blame “retrograde brain” for the utterly absurd things you blurted out during your latest dramatic monologue. The cosmic static has cleared, which means when you say something incredibly self-absorbed late in the week, you’ll actually have to take accountability for it. Shocking, I know.
My Psychic Verdict:
You are completely exhausted from the mental gymnastics of pretending you are the main character in everyone else’s life. My advice? Go find a smooth piece of silver, wrap it tightly in white silk, and lock it inside your safe. Will it attract the wealth and adoration you think you deserve? Absolutely not. But at least while you are busy wrapping precious metals, you aren’t forcing your friends to take photos of you for your social media.
Now, leave. The sun is hitting a very specific patch on the sofa, and I have a date with a deep, peaceful slumber that you are currently interrupting.
