I think something’s wrong.

By now, I should be covered in glittery residue, reeking of booze and sweat. I should have made a fool of myself at least once and, ideally, made a fool of someone else, too. At the very least, I should’ve paid homage to the corner of Bourbon and Dumaine, sneered at drunk sorority girls on their way to karaoke bars, pondered a meal at Clover Grill and quickly decided against it.

But none of that. I’ve seen no parades, nothing. I did go to the Society of Ste. Anne ball, which is always amusing. But even there, I spent most of my time in corners, talking to friends I haven’t seen in a while.

I outgrew xmas ages ago: it became an ordeal, a gauntlet of social obligations. Carnival doesn’t feel that way — it’s a vacation with pals, really — but something is different. Maybe it’s the length of this year’s season — one of the longest possible. Maybe I’m distracted with work. Maybe I’m older and more worried and less carefree. Or maybe I’m annoyed by the huge crowds, especially the huge crowds in our neighborhood.

Whatever the reason, I’m feeling grouchy this year. The suddenly cold weather isn’t helping. Hopefully I’ll perk up by the time guests arrive for this morning’s open house. And if not, well, at least there’s king cake and the knowledge that it’ll all be over at midnight.