I know, it's a day late for St. Patrick's day.

One day an Englishman, a Scotsman, and an Irishman walked into a pub together. They each bought a pint of Guinness.

Just as they were about to enjoy their creamy beverage, three flies landed in each of their pints, and were stuck in the thick head.

The Englishman pushed his beer away in disgust.

The Scotsman fished the fly out of his beer, and continued drinking it, as if nothing had happened.

The Irishman, too, picked the fly out of his drink, held it out over the beer, and started yelling, "SPIT IT OUT, SPIT IT OUT YOU BASTARD!!!!"

Yesterday my thoughts were all about excuses and justification.

Today they're all about trepidation and apprehension.

I think it's a Thursday thing. The weekend is approaching and, chances are, the weekend is when the shit will hit the fan.

Probably not this weekend, maybe not ever, but that doesn't stop me from obsessing over the horrible possibility each and every week as Friday approaches.

I've got one hurdle left to cross. One potential obstacle standing between me and my goal of being a sane person again.

This scenario is, fortunately, not very likely. I could actually go so far as to call it unlikely. But I still can't stop worrying about it. Obsessing over it.

No matter how much I try, no matter how often I envision myself crossing that barrier, I just don't think I'd be able to do it.

I think I'd turn around and walk the other way.

I think I'd fling shit into the fan.

I've gotten to know myself and my own capabilities (or lack thereof) pretty well over the last several months. I've learned to handle a lot. A lot more than I thought I could. I also discovered some fragility that I didn't know existed.

I'm pretty sure that I couldn't handle this.

This would trip me up. This would shatter my sanity. Like a waiter that drops an overloaded tray of dishes, I'd lose the grip I hold on my own mind, and drop it. Watch it fall and shatter into a million pieces.

If I could see it coming first, before I was forced to try yet doomed to fail, I don't think I'd even try.

I think I'd turn around and walk the other way.

Watch out for flying shit.

I guess I do some of my best, or worst, thinking after work, sitting at Rich O's while I drink a beer and wait for my food.

Best because I finally get some time to myself, away from the paperwork and politicking at work. I can start thinking about things that are relevant to my life instead of those things that are only relevant to my job.

Worst because once I let my mind start to wander it jumps on a thought and develops inertia quickly, and getting it to veer away from an uncomfortable subject has become increasingly difficult. If not impossible.

Sometimes I actually long for the crazy days when my mind couldn't hold a single thought for more than a few minutes.

But those days are gone, and my mind will ruminate and ponder and obsess over whatever it wants. And there's not a damn thing I can do about it except let it go and wait for the thought to play itself out.

Case in point: Today at 5:30 I was thinking about justification and excuses. Now it's 10:26 and I'm still thinking about them.

I want justification. I crave it, need it, perhaps even deserve it.

But not that way.

People tell me stuff. Either directly or through hints, they tell me things that they think will dissipate this cloud that they perceive around me. They tell me things that they think will excuse and explain.

They think they're helping me, but what they're actually doing is scaring the shit out of me.

If I have to face one of my darkest fears to justify some of my deepest pains, then no thanks.

It's hard to think of something to write when I'm in a good mood.

My moods, like those of most semi-normal people, fluctuate several times a day. From good to bad. From bad to worse. From worse to great.

I know when I'm at my happiest, though. Fives days a week I have moments of ecstasy and relief that I know will go unchallenged until the next day. Until the next time. Sometimes I'll even do it several times in a row, so great is the joy that it brings. I just can't keep my hands off it.

I'm talking, of course, about my snooze button.

Those bonus minutes provide the best sleep of the night for me. They're the best because they are my choice. I take those minutes because I can, not because I have to, or because I need to. I go to bed at night because I have to get up in the morning. I sometimes take a nap after work because I'm just so tired that I need to sleep.

But those nine minutes, from 6:36 until 6:45, those are my choice, and I choose to take them. They're proof that, for a while at least, I'm in charge of my own life. Of my own destiny. At least for the next nine minutes.

Wouldn't it be nice to have a snooze button for life? So that when something so horrible, so unbearable happens, and you know you'll have to face it eventually, you can at least put it off for a little while?

It's hard to think of something to write when I'm in a good mood.

For my birthday card, Dina found this picture of me from the future.

Today I was digging through all of my picture boxes, looking for one in particular. I didn't find the one I was searching for but I did find some that prove that I used to be a pretty cute kid.

This was taken on my first Mother's Day. Despite what some may think, color film had been invented in 1965. I was just a black & white baby.

Here I was in 1970, apparently having just kacked at my hair with some scissors.

1971. My mom always took me to this evil barber and I always hated it. I think you can see why. Many years later, at my dad's funeral, that same barber had the nerve to try to extort money from me.

Ah, 1972. The Age of Groove may have been coming to an end, but I wasn't going to let it go without a fight. The really neato thing was that I had pants to match this vest. What made it even keener was that my cousins Jeff and Chris had matching outfits. This was the height of my coolness.

This was 1973. The neat thing about this shirt was that it matched everything. I wish I still had one like it.

1975. I kindof look like I might have been hungover here, but I'm pretty sure I wasn't.

The year 1976 was apparently a pretty rough one for me. I obviously used hedge clippers to cut my own hair, and needed a patch on my jacket to remind myself of my own name.

My 8th grade picture from 1979. This was the last decent picture ever taken of me. I remember that shirt. It was one of my all-time favorites. Also, check out the bling around my neck! It was an arrowhead necklace.

...like just now when I was sorting my laundry and glanced out the window to see a veritable blizzard.

I certainly wasn't expecting that. I'd figured that the time for snow was in the past.

Still, it's very pretty.

Whereas on Friday night the Rich O's crowd seemed fairly typical for a busy Friday night, last night's crowd was all Gravity Head.

Standing room only. If you were lucky enough to find a place to stand.

The place had been invaded by a bunch of Daytonese, and they filled every available nook and cranny. It was only through my charm and good looks that I was able to get a spot on the loveseat within an hour after I arrived.

Many of the Rich O's regulars were there as well, crammed into whatever spot they could find (and manage to hang on to) and most of us spent the night exchanging empathetic glances.

As for me, I was pretty much in misery. I don't like crowds. I especially don't like crowds of strangers. I should have left but I'd sort of promised NotGeorge that I'd give him a ride home so I was stuck.

To drink, I had a couple of the NABC Noble Smokers and a Delirium Tremens. The Tremens I had to get from a bottle because the Belgian wave of high gravity beers hasn't started yet. This weekend was mostly about the hops and the stouts. I did, however, manage to have small samples of the following:

• Avery "The Beast" Grand Cru
• Bell's Batch 6000
• Great Divide Oaked Yeti Imperial Stout
• Rogue Old Crustacean Barley Wine

Once the Daytonians had left - there were mumblings about skinny-dipping in the hotel pool - CoffeeDude and NotGeorge joined me in the living room area. By that time I'd switched to Diet Coke, but NotGeorge had just ordered a Bell's Batch 6000 so we sat around for a while. It was actually kind of nice to be able to have a conversation. It'd been way too loud earlier. Our conversation consisted mostly of wondering whether ExoticGirl tasted as good as she looked. Neither of us will ever know.

Fairly late in the evening DooRagGirl came in looking all rastafied, and I gave her my sister's e-mail address.

Left at about 12:30, dropped NotGeorge off at his house, and came home.

Today I went down to our local Caesar's, ostensibly to have a pint of Newcastle, but I knew I'd also do at least a little gambling.

Well I did have my Newcastle, and I also did quite a lot of people watching while I was at it. There are some real freaks in Southern Indiana, and I'm grateful that I'm not one of them.

I'm not, right?

After my beer I went into the casino and, after much searching, finally found a blackjack table with an empty seat. I got $100 worth of chips, vowing that once that was gone I'd be done for the day.

I then proceeded to win forty of the next fifty hands I played. At $10 per hand, and with some blackjacks thrown in, I more than quadrupled my money in about an hour.

I like blackjack, and I certainly like winning, but it can be a very hectic and confusing game sometimes. Yes, I'll admit it. I get confused when I have a 12 or a 13 showing and the dealer's showing crap. I also get confused with an ace sometimes.

So anyway, despite my winning, I was becoming a little overwhelmed with all of the nonstop decisions that had to be made, so I picked up my chips and went to another favorite game - pai gow poker.

It's a relaxing game that usually only requires one or two decisions per minute. There are also a lot more pushes than there are in blackjack, so even if I don't win a hand I have a 66% chance of at least not losing anything.

After about an hour of pai gow poker, the place started getting even more crowded, so I cashed in.

I left with my original $100, plus $513 of the casino's money that I will use to help finance my upcoming trip to Maine.

What was really cool about winning some money, aside of course from it being money was that it was the first time I'd won at our local Caesar's in several years. I normally have pretty good luck in Las Vegas, but the local casino has not been friendly to me since 2001 when I pretty much lived off my winnings for two months.

Oh, yeah. I saw a couple of my sister Dina's friends while I was there. I waved at them and the girl just sheepishly waved back. She had no clue who I was at first, but after a while they came over to my pai gow table and said hello.

When MisunderstoodGirl annouced that it was "pouring down snow" I thought it was a pretty odd thing to say.

After driving home in the stuff I can't think of a better way to describe it.

I haven't driven through snow this heavy since I experienced some blow-back in Juneau, Alaska, 10 years ago, and that wasn't officially snow at all.

Snow was piling up on my windshield faster than my wipers could take it off.

But anyway, I obviously made it home, and here I sit.

I had pretty much decided that I wasn't going to Rich O's tonight. The dreadicipation (I just coined that word) was giving me an actual anxiety attack. I was freaked out about the Gravity Head (Rich O's strong beer festival) crowds, I was paranoid about the numerous times I'd been quizzed about my plans for the night, I had gotten to the point where I could only imagine the worst possible outcome if I went to the bar.

While I was quietly having a nervous breakdown at home, however, two things happened.

First, RealTrainGirl contacted me and promised to be my rock if the Gravity Head crowd started to get to me.

Second, if you think I'm going to write about what was second you're wrong. Let's just say that my full Moon theory has been blown to bits.

So I ended up braving Rich O's, getting there at about 10:00.

The place was pretty damned crowded, though it wasn't as bad as I'd feared. I'd had the good timing to arrive when the island was unoccupied so I grabbed a seat and RealTrainGirl and MisunderstoodGirl joined me.

To drink, all I had was a couple pints of NABC's new Noble Smoker. I really like it, and I didn't feel at all like experimenting with any other beer. Not tonight anyway.

We ended up staying until 12:30 or so. RealTrainGirl once again impressed me with her ability to drink. MisunderstoodGirl did not emanate a "fuck you asshole" vibe, so that was good.

I had a good night. Much better than it would have been if I'd shut myself in a closet and sucked my thumb at home, as was my original plan.

Oh, yeah. RealTrainGirl told me a little bit of gossip that I found intriguing, and she also agreed with me that a certain dipshit must have been lying to me when he told me that TrainGirl didn't remember me. I of course knew that already, but it was nice to have a second opinion.