I used to get really fired up for St. Patrick's Day, even though I don't have a trace of Irish in me. I'd try to get the day off work (on those days that it fell on a weekday), and if I could pull that off I'd wake up at 8 a.m. and find a place to quaff some Guiness at a nearby tavern.
This never happens anymore. Yesterday I woke up at 8 a.m., but it was to go to the gym. I killed myself at the gym (to the point where I'm now sore) and went home and watched the college basketball tournament (more on that in tomorrow's blog). Then I wrote for a little while, flipped over to American Idol, wrote some more and watched some more hoops and went to bed.
I didn't even think about trying to make plans for St. Patrick's Day.
I guess this means I'm getting old.