Sunshine on Sunday

The alarm sounds, so what, I decide to sleep some more. It's Sunday and I don't have to work. I'm going to enjoy every sweet moment that I'm granted until my guilt for wasting the day kicks in.

Then it's my cell phone. I pick it up to see who has decided to disrupt my slumber, my lovely 'Lumberjack'. I don't mind anymore. I like his wake-up calls they're never a bother to receive.

He's just calling to check in.

The night before had been one of indulgence, indulgence in copious amounts of alcohol (as most individuals who recognize Commonwealth celebrations would know). Along with my Lumberjack's Engineering buddies he'd been indulging since noon. His night ended a fair bit earlier than mine. But, I made the executive decision to stay out longer as Carla was traveling down to meet up with me.

By the end of the night when you scan the room or bar hall or club wherever you might be on St. Paddy's day do you ever think to yourself - what the hell is going on here?

How did an old English bloke who somehow became an Irish patron saint, umpteen years ago manage to get so many people drunk?

In the spirit of Western consumerism there are also an array of St. Patrick's Day products on the market. Which I might add are probably sold in dollar stores owned by new Canadians who have no clue what all of the excitement is about (don't worry friends you're not missing out on anything).

Well, this was a year I didn't buy into it. I didn't even wear green. But, in the end my roommate brought me a green shirt from home to wear because I just felt like such a party-pooper. Although, I'm sure the party didn't notice.

Last year was different, I busted out the cloverleaf sweater -classy- and I ended up having a tragic night. Line-ups equal no fun. Maybe my reluctance to dress the part was a subconscious move to ensure I had a super sweet party night:)

Maybe next year I'll buy into it again. I might even pick-up a ' Who's your daddy? (Front)- St. Paddy's your daddy!(Back)'. A friend of mine who looks like a giant Leprechaun wore one just like it last night.

Please don't fret with fear at the image of me drunkenly stumbling about this big bad city. It wasn't a night of debauchery. It was a fabulous night with great friends. I was sure to not over do it; Sunday was set to be a well-paced productive day with a planned sleep in.

Oh and it was glorious.

I made my cup of coffee, dressed and then strolled through the bustling Bloor West Village. Everyone wrapped in sunshine. I couldn't hide the extra little bounce in my step. Spring is coming, I can feel it.

I bought salmon coloured tulips to celebrate!