Yeah, I know the title sounds simple, like something you can knock out in two seconds on a cheap search engine. But trust me, the road to locking down these dates was a mess, and it took a serious dive into some old-school records to make sure I wasn’t getting hoodwinked by some flimsy, modern astrology site.
It all kicked off at a barbecue last month. My wife’s sister’s husband—a real piece of work—was holding court about how his Cancer sign made him super intuitive, and he started arguing with my youngest about the kid’s Pisces sign. The kid swore his birthday fell cleanly in the middle, but the brother-in-law, who swears he studied star charts in college, started shouting that the official dates shifted this year, something about an astronomical correction. It blew up fast. I had to step in and shut it down, not because I care that much about where the sun was when someone got birthed, but because I refuse to let that guy win an argument on my patio.
I immediately whipped out my phone and started typing. And that’s where the trouble began. Half the sites I slammed into were crap. They contradicted each other. One site claimed a sign started on the 18th; the next said the 22nd. You gotta be kidding me. I spent a solid half hour scrubbing through pages, rejecting anything that looked like it had glitter on it or tried to sell me a personalized reading. I kept running into walls and feeling this rising frustration.
Why am I so hellbent on getting this trivial detail exactly right? Because I learned the hard way what happens when you trust someone else’s casual data. This whole obsessive need to confirm even the most minor fact stems from a gig I worked way back, maybe eight or nine years ago, at a massive manufacturing outfit.
The Time A Bad Date Cost Me Six Months of My Life
I was running logistics and inventory for a new product launch. The main production run was supposed to start on the second Tuesday of March. The VP came down, slapped the schedule on my desk, and said, “Be ready. You sign off on this.” I looked at the date, nodded, and started working the shift schedules, the raw material deliveries, everything. The date was in black and white: March 12th.
Well, turns out, the VP’s assistant had used an old template. The real start date was March 22nd. Ten days later. But I had already pulled the overnight crews, scheduled the trucking from the port, and paid the rush fee on several key components. Everything was set for the wrong date. We had ten empty trucks sitting idle for over a week, and all that extra shift pay went straight out the window. It cost the company a massive pile of cash.
Who took the fall? Me. They dragged me into every executive meeting, made me explain why I didn’t internally cross-reference the master calendar that was buried four folders deep on a shared network drive. They punished me by freezing my promotion track and docking my vacation days for six solid months. I showed them the paper the VP gave me, the one I signed, but they said I should have known better because of “institutional knowledge.” Institutional what? It was a simple date error.
I resigned right after that six months was up. Just walked out during my lunch break and never returned the company laptop. I heard later they spent almost a year trying to replace the systems I built solo, and the department collapsed into chaos. They tried to call me a few times. I just sent them to voicemail. They even tried to email my wife, looking for me. Blocked the whole lot.
That taught me: never trust a single source. Verify everything, especially simple numbers and dates. That’s why I went into lockdown mode over these Zodiac signs.
The Confirmed Data I Dug Up
I dug up three ancient-looking but authoritative guides—one from an old astronomer’s society and two from university library archives. I compared them all, and they agreed. This is the non-negotiable, verifiable truth that shuts down every loudmouth at the cookout, including my brother-in-law.
I put it here so you don’t have to waste your time fighting with bad search results.
The Final Guide:
- Pisces: Generally, the season runs from February 19 through March 20.
- Cancer: Generally, the season runs from June 21 through July 22.
That’s it. Simple, clean, and backed up by sources that haven’t changed their mind since they were printed decades ago. I printed this list out, laminated it, and now I keep it in my wallet. Next time that guy starts arguing, I’m just going to slap this thing down on the table. That’s the end of my process, and honestly, it’s a relief to have this nailed down.
End of story.
