St. Patrick's day is not really a big deal to the Italians, except that they know it is a big deal to the thousands of Americans studying here, so they tend to go all out. In spite of this, I was planning on going out tonight. I SWEAR. I promised Sam that I would go on this epic (and uber expensive) pub crawl with her, but my stomach had other plans. After stuffing down a delicious (and cheap) cinnamon raisin bagel right before my cooking exam this evening, I started experiencing the worst stomach cramps ever. Food poisoning? Either way, I'm not going out, and my wallet and my GPA are thanking me. I'm sure Sam will survive without me, despite her skepticism at my texts begging off. Besides, with a midterm at noon that I am just not ready for, it's for the best. You just have to listen to your body sometimes (and your mother, who would agree that staying in tonight is the best option).
I am truly coming to realize here that I just do not enjoy going out. It's such a process, getting ready and then walking out to the bars, paying money to be sexually harassed by Italian men, and then stumbling home at 3 AM, only to wake up the next morning, still paying the price in the form of a hangover. Not my kind of fun. I enjoy going out and having a glass of prosecco with my apperitivo. I enjoy grabbing a cocktail at a bar and coming home early. But this whole partying-get-drunk-all-the-time thing just ain't my thang. And I need to learn to be cool with that, and just say no to wasting money on things that I don't enjoy. Cappuccino? Yes, please! Late night at the Lion's Fountain? No, thank you.
Aaaaand guess what else? A little birdie (or an email) told me that my long-awaited package had finally arrived! A frustrating walk up and down Via Magenta, 45 minutes and 13 euro later, I have BLACK BOOTS! Thanks, Mom!