Luck of the (partially) Irish

I've never really been one to celebrate St. Patrick's Day. I tried to get into the spirit in college; I drank some green beer one fateful St. Patty's, and it really messed with my digestive system. I've been suspicious about the holiday ever since.

Don't get me wrong, it's not that I mind celebrating it. After all, I'm as much Irish as I am Swedish (my mother's maiden name was McDevitt), and I love to wear the color green. (You should see my socks today. I look like a freaking leprechaun.) But I just can't get into the spirit of getting piss drunk in the middle of the week in honor of good old St. Patrick.

Weekends are a different story, as I proved last weekend at the annual Shamrock Festival in Arlington. I'm more than happy to consume frosty adult beverages out of green cups when I don't have to get up for work the next morning.

Right now, my plans for "celebrating" St. Pat's are limited to joining Boog for a celebratory birthday dinner (Happy Birthday, Roomie!). And though I know my friends are going to hit the town and make the most out of a day that honors my own heritage, I just don't think I have the steam in me to do it.

Am I just getting old?

Maybe I can blame my lameness on money woes. Saving for grad school... that sounds plausible, doesn't it?