What a freakin' shit show.
Dan and I hung around the apartment for the most part, venturing out for food and a bit of grocery shopping. The people that come out of the woodwork... man. It's like Founder's Day for the real world. Drunk by noon, late nap, ready to go out again by 9. Lots of bagpipers, seas of green, a lot of girls using this holiday as Halloween 2.0. And who even knows the story of St. Patrick's day? I sure as hell can't tell you. But then again, I was the girl with the video camera, laughing at all the midday drunks, not the one wearing an "I'm not Irish, but kiss me anyway" shirt with a shamrock headband and green face paint, pretending to know what I'm celebrating.
Not that there's anything wrong with that. Just, why make yourself a spectacle on the streets of New York?
While the party was pumping in the apartment below us, Dan and I were busy making some lovely pasta with veggies and mucho garlic. Simple, cheap, romantic. My idea of perfection. I'm definitely true to my astrological sign in this sense. Complete homebody.
Also, I still adore waking up in the city. Cannot wait to do it every day.