Picture this: me, at the St. Louis Art Museum Lunar New Year celebration, soaking up the vibrant energy of lion dances, red lanterns, and good vibes. It’s 2025, and everything feels fresh, shiny, and promising. The vibe is immaculate until BAM—someone drops the bomb: “It’s the Year of the Snake!”
Cue my brain spiraling into a full dramatic meltdown. Oh no. OH NO. Because guess what? My husband (born in 1971, Year of the Pig) and my son (born in 2007, also Year of the Pig) just got sucker-punched by the Universe. It’s their enemy year. Yep. This year’s not here to play nice; it’s here to throw them into a karmic wrestling match they didn’t sign up for.
What Is an Enemy Year?
Let me break it down: the Chinese zodiac is like a 12-year reality show where everyone is either besties or arch-nemeses. Every year is ruled by a zodiac sign, and these signs have alliances (cool kids) and mortal enemies (burn book material). For the Pig, their ultimate nemesis is the Snake. Imagine a Snake slithering up to a Pig’s comfy picnic, flipping the table, and slinking off with zero regrets. That’s the energy we’re dealing with.
In your enemy year, the universe decides to test you. Miscommunications? Yes. Weird setbacks? You bet. It’s like getting pranked by the cosmos on repeat for 12 months. For Pigs, it’s an emotional escape room with no snacks and a lot of shade.
1971 + 2007: A Cosmic Mess
Let’s talk about the doomed duo—my husband and son. Pigs are supposed to embody kindness, indulgence, and hardworking vibes. Meanwhile, Snakes? They’re the cunning villains of this story—sneaky, strategic, and maybe plotting world domination on the side. You know, casual. Snakes exist to wreck the Pig’s cozy vibes and send them into chaos.
Here’s how the enemy year works:
- The Snake year is like that passive-aggressive coworker who CCs your boss on every email for no reason. It’s not catastrophic, but it’s annoying enough to break your will.
- For my harmony-loving husband and son, this year feels like being tossed onto a chaotic obstacle course run by some snarky Snake overlord, where every turn is a trap and every reward is just…another trap.
Watching the Chaos Unfold
Listen, I’m not saying I’m enjoying this…but okay, maybe I am. The signs are already clear. My husband’s mood swings have gone from “laid-back zen dad” to “grumpy detective in a noir film.” And my son? Oh, he’s deep in the trenches of teenage angst—the other day he aggressively sighed at a pair of socks like they’d personally betrayed him. (Thanks, Snake energy.)
Honestly, it feels like I’m watching a live episode of “Astrological Family Feud,” and you better believe I’m grabbing the popcorn.
My Snake Year Survival Plan
Am I going to sit them down and tell them they’re doomed? No. That would be cruel—and way too much fun. Instead, here’s my strategy:
- Reassure Them with Lies: I’ll casually say, “Oh, it’s just a little cosmic turbulence,” while hiding the astrology books that scream “ENEMY YEAR” in all caps.
- Snack Warfare: Pigs thrive on comfort, and nothing screams “life isn’t that bad” like a well-stocked kitchen. Chips, chocolate, and whatever other comfort food my family demands? Stockpiled.
- Blame the Snake for Everything: Bad Wi-Fi? Snake. Lost remote? Snake. Burned dinner? Snake! It’s the universal scapegoat for all things annoying, and honestly, it’s kind of therapeutic.
Final Thoughts: Embracing the Chaos
The Year of the Snake might be coming for my husband and son, but for me? It’s absolute gold. I mean, how often does the Universe give you front-row seats to your family’s villain arc? It’s like the cosmos handed me a drama-filled script, and I’m here for every twist and turn.
So here’s to 2025: the Year of the Snake, the Year of Watching My Family Spiral, and the Year I secretly root for just a tiny bit of chaos. If the universe insists on throwing shade, I might as well enjoy the show.
Who’s going to crack first—my husband or my son? Place your bets now. And if you’re a Pig dealing with this Snake energy too? Good luck out there. You’re gonna need it. 🐍✨