Alright, listen—listen—LISTEN. Everyone’s talking about "market futures," "S&P futures," "Nasdaq futures." Futures, futures, futures! Tommy, are we in a sci-fi movie? Are we predicting the weather? Because I’m pretty sure the last time *I* tried to predict my future, I ended up with a gym membership I used twice and a subscription box full of artisan pickles. C'mon, boss. Don't do that.
You want to know my market future? It’s me, still here, still talking fast, probably still trying to convince myself that *this* is the week I finally organize my desk. My *personal* S&P futures are looking like a strong downward trend in my coffee budget but a massive spike in "I just saw a squirrel do something amazing" energy. We're talking about market predictions like it's a science, but last I checked, the market’s got the same mood swings as my internet connection during a lake effect snow warning. And you know how I feel about *those* warnings. Seriously, "market futures?" That's a "future me" problem. And "future me" is already stressed enough.