Final day in the workplace before the break and I’m astonished equally by my motivation (considering I’m on the verge of a week and three days of uninterrupted time to myself) and the histrionic magnitude of crises I am professionally bound to hear and resolve.  Though I am thankfully unexperienced with the psychosis of guano, “bat shit” emerges as the adjective of choice.  Paula reports the moon phase and I interrupt my litany of complaints with quiet fantasies of waning.