Now

First let me say that I'm not a big believer in astrology. I put about as much stock in my daily horoscope as I do in fortune cookies. Actually, I learned that lesson the hard way. I once opened a fortune cookie to find the message: "You're a lover of words. You should write a book." I spent the next seven years trying to find a publisher for my children's book. (In all fairness, I must admit that the fortune cookie said nothing about publication.) But I digress...

When I read my horoscope the other day, I admit--it struck a nerve. I knew exactly what task my daily reading referred to. Several months ago (okay, more like six) I purchased wood stain and polyurethane to refinish my oak dining room table.

"You're not planning on doing that now, are you?" hubby growled.

"Why not?" I countered. "It needs it desperately."

"You need to wait until it cools down so we can open the windows and ventilate."

He had a point. It was much too hot to turn off the a/c and open the house up. Well, that was six months ago. Endless Arizona summer slipped right into winter, and still my table remained unsanded, unvarnished, untouched.

Part of it was that everytime my guilty conscience reminded me of my procrastination, I would rationalize that I was, afte rall, a human being--not a human doing. So I waited. I waited for the Universe to send me a sign. And then I read that horoscope. Gazinga!

It is time.

So I've assembled my supplies, I've tarped over the floor, read all the instructions. Never mind the fact that I've never done this before. When have I ever let that stop me? Stay tuned.