When the moon is in the seventh house

I often skip the horoscopes of women's magazines and the newspaper. I'll admit that I'm curious what the hubbub was about, but kinda scared as well of learning too much about my future. Frankly, I like that it's up to chance (seemingly).

Lately though everyone I know is into astrology. Case in point:

April is tax season and for the self-employed (me) that means a trip to the accountant with every slip of paper I can find from the previous year.

Cut to: my new accountant, Jonathan. He has on a scholarly, brown-checked blazer with elbow patches and a well-coiffed head of hair pulled back from his face. Since we're in Chelsea (NYC), he's also sporting a expensive pair of pink corduroys.

Besides being the most mild-mannered and Zen accountant I've ever met, we're in T-minus days and counting until April 15...his desk is pristine.

OK, my point. After giving him my folder of info, he asks my birth date: July 20. "You're a Cancer and in charge of the finances?!"

My husband, without missing a beat, answers: "I'm a Cancer too."

"Ah," Jonathan says, like this is now obvious. "Your birthday is closer to Leo so of course it makes sense. Your husband is near Gemini."

Because this has happened more than once recently, I thought about carrying a laminated copy of my birth chart so I can converse on some level with people. Sometimes I'm afraid I've given myself away, like I'm being psycho-analyzed in German and have no idea how to defend myself. "Didn't you know? My sun is in Capricorn!"