Don't Leave the House

Tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day. I hear it's crazier in Savannah than it is here, but that doesn't seem to help. I saw 3 girls, couldn't have been younger than 18, in matching white puffy vests and all sorts of sparkly green shit (yes, including makeup) run out of the apartment upstairs this afternoon and prance up and down the street for 5 minutes before getting in a car and heading ...somewhere for the day. I'm going to make a wild guess and say Faneuil Hall, maybe?
They're actually stomping around and squealing upstairs as I type.
That was today. It's the 16th.
I have a vague memory of sitting at Foley's last year on the 17th, and not feeling claustrophobic. I have no idea how that happened; maybe it was the company.
I'm part Irish. I've eaten soda bread and liked it. I get crazy freckles in the summer.
I just don't get this 'holiday'. The only days in Boston where it gets any worse as far as drunk stupid projectile-throwing crowds goes is when a local sports team wins something.

Fortunately, two of my friends are coming over for dinner tomorrow night, which should keep us all from getting restless enough to even consider riding anywhere except home. It's Arwen's birthday on Tuesday, and I've got a half-finished present for her that I thought up Saturday morning. I didn't leave myself enough time, but I'll be able to show it to her before it goes to the shop for finishing.
I've never carved anything out before so I figured colonial folk art style would be simple and easy enough, and she'd like it even if it was hacked half to bits, so it was a pretty safe bet. It'll be a small cabinet (about 25" tall) fixed to the wall when it's done.
Woodcarving seems easy and difficult at the same time. I think I'm going to have to do a lot more of it, though.