The F*#&ing Moon

It’s that time of the month again (the full moon). The weekend was a blitzkrieg of chaos: People leaping into the nursing station and drinking hand-sanitizer. People breaking into the kitchen and chug-a-lugging a half-gallon of coffee (not decaf.) People ripping fire extinguishers off the walls. People throwing chairs, cafeteria trays, fire extinguishers. Pounding on doors, pounding on windows, kicking the television. Boy patients trying to get into girl patients’ pants. Patients complaining of chest pain and bringing back narcotics from the Emergency Room. People masturbating in the bathroom sinks. Urinating in milk cartons and hiding them under the bed. Tearing up pillowcases. Ripping chunks of hair out of their heads. I don’t know where to start today.

It’s not always like this. But it seems to be so roughly every 28 days.

I just did a quick calculation, of the sort I like to do. Over in the Bay of Fundy, the moon throws around, four times a day, a mass of water equal to roughly 25 million Humvees. And that’s just a smallish corner of ocean. To think that we are immune to lunar forces may be truly naïve.

Anyway, I have to do some serious career decision-making in the next couple days. I’m not sure I can be objective, the way things are going here.