Not that I give too much credence to the full moon making people feel nuts, but as I slowly evolve into a stereotypical Californian, I do have to admit that when the full moon rolls around, I often feel a bit like a manic-depressive. And let's not get started on the fact that I'm a Cancer, so if you believe anything about astrology, then you know I am ruled by this celestial object, which essentially means I am some kind of cosmic ventriloquist dummy.
Yesterday I couldn't figure out what the hell my problem was--which, granted, is not an uncommon dilemma. And then a glance at the oh-so-informative Yahoo News page informed me that Oct. 6th was, indeed, the night of the Harvest Moon. The moon was 12% fuller and closer to Earth last night. The "news" piece dutifully informed me that there was no evidence the moon makes people go crazy (thanks, Yahoo! thanks, Moon!), but damn if I didn't feel like I had bees buzzing in my head and that every conversation was like wading through a pool of tar.
Then again, I probably just worked too late all week.
For the rest of the night, though, I suspiciously watched the giant moon and felt like it was tapping me on the shoulder. It was like having someone at a party keep talking to you even though you were long past the point of being able to maintain a plastic smile and nod your head in feigned interest.
What's the point of this? I am not sure I know. I just woke up this morning feeling hung over, which I am going to blame on the moon. It's the one night of the month where I feel OK about side stepping any deeper probing of my own emotions.
Now I can also listen to Lesley all day exclaiming "MOON!" to me with a smile on her face. She really can say so much with so little.
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