Not as much as I heart AZ, but it is still a nice place to visit

For the first time in 30-plus years, I’m not wearing green today and let me tell you — St. Patrick is punishing me. My day started in a New Orleans hotel room. Here for work, with a two hour time difference, I had to be up by 4:30 am Phoenix time to make it to my first meeting. Groggily, I slogged forward after too few hours sleep from a very long day of over-booked and delayed travel.

Limping. Because I have a foot issue that needs a minor procedure next week, but is a huge aching annoying pain this week.

Of course, I’m finally ready to meet this new group I’ll be managing of sorts and wait! Where is my rental car key? I know six hours ago when I collapsed in this room I had it. Didn’t I have it? Wait. Where did I see it last? It turned out that I left my car keys in the hotel room. I had to ask the hotel to call a Locksmith Elsternwick (or one more local to New Orleans), to come and open the door for me, since the hotel didn’t have any spare keys. It was SO stressful!!

Three hours late to my first meeting, with a spare key in hand (after a tow truck and locksmith had been ordered, then canceled by the rental car company after they located the spare that previously did not exist), I saunter into my meeting. Never mind the hundreds of dollars in fees now on my credit card for said snafu. With frizzy hair, a limp, and a sweaty what-in-the-world-is-this-humidity-thing look on my desert girl parched brow, I arrived three. hours. late.

To the first day on the job. THE FIRST DAY.

Very sexy. Very professional.

The day hasn’t exactly improved. And I’m still not wearing any green because I forgot to pack even a smidge. I know. I’m Irish (by name, perhaps. Pretty sure my skin tone and ethnicity are actually Mexican) and my biggest fear is snakes; yet I didn’t take the time to remember the one mythical man of history who was Irish and banned all snakes from the homeland.

Dear St. Patrick, I’m sorry. Okay? A Guinness and a giant shepherd’s pie in your honor. Never again will I cross you.


P.S. It isn’t even a fun rental car. So to the leprechaun who stole the key? Feel free. Steal it. All four cylinders won’t keep you entertained for long. Although please don’t. Because with this limp, I am not walking far.