Psychic Meow Meow’s Weekly Misery Forecast for Cancer (October 4th – October 10th)
Oh, look who’s crawling out from under their shell again. It’s Cancer, the astrological equivalent of a damp napkin. Are you crying right now? Did a stranger look at you slightly wrong, or did a commercial about stray dogs come on?
I paused my sunbath for this, so pay attention before I swat your hand away. Here is your cosmic trash heap for the week.
The Weekly Roast: The Moon is making a series of moody, volatile aspects this week, which means your emotional thermostat is completely broken. You’re going to spend the next seven days retreating into your hard little shell, waiting for everyone to ask “what’s wrong?”, only to respond with a passive-aggressive “nothing, I’m fine.” Here’s a clue: nobody is playing your mind games this week. If you want something, use your words instead of sighing loudly in the kitchen until someone notices you.
Love & Relationships: Your nostalgia is acting up again, and it’s pathetic. Stop looking at your ex’s social media from three years ago. They haven’t changed, and no, that vague post they made isn’t about you. If you’re in a relationship, your partner is about two seconds away from losing their mind over your guilt trips. Smothering someone with unwanted “care” just so they owe you affection isn’t love—it’s hostage-taking. If you’re single, work on not treating every casual acquaintance like a future spouse by the second text message.
Career & Money: You’ll spend most of the workweek taking professional feedback as a direct attack on your soul and ancestral lineage. When your boss asks for a revision, they aren’t saying you’re a failure as a human being—they’re asking for a formatting change. Get over yourself. Financially, stop “comfort shopping” to heal your fragile ego. Buying overpriced scented candles and cozy blankets won’t fill the void; it just leaves you broke and surrounded by lavender-scented dust collectors.
Cat Wisdom for the Week: You are not the main character in an indie drama. Put down the blanket, stop holding grudges from 2014, and go touch some grass.
Now get out of my sight, you’re blocking my patch of sunlight.
