St. Patrick's Day is a big deal around here. I married into an Irish family and my family embraces an opportunity to dress ridiculously and drink copious amounts of alcohol. So this is like Christmas to us, only minus the holiness and gifts. And I was ready. Green outfit, green furry boa, Dr. Seussian hat.
But the luck of the Irish failed to visit us this year. The Banker managed to put out his back and was writhing in pain by midday on Friday. One trip to the chiropractor, a set of x-rays, a round of acupuncture, and stretching failed to provide any relief. The "doctor" is supposed to let The Banker know on Monday what the course of action will be.
So our St. Patty's Day was passed in a mild manner. No corn beef and cabbage. No drunken crowds. No green beer. But then again, no green puke. So there's always that.
The Banker is still in considerable pain, which is terrible to watch. And I find myself very tired. Three freelance articles to go, a house that needs to be cleaned, and The Banker and I are at an impasse about buying a new house.
But that's a story for another time...
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2 comments:
Go raibh mile maith agat for your post, and slainte to you and your family.
Kat - you failed to mention your wonderful time at the dive bar that included dancing infront of everyone with a 90 year old grandma. Can't beat that!!
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