Earlier this week was when all of my genetically bestowed luck was on fire. The day of leprechauns, corn beef, and twelve dollar t-shirts that take turns being lewder than the phrase “kiss me I’m Irish”. There should really be an instructional manual on the misuse of black arrows pointing down on t-shirts.
Let’s be honest, it’s really just a day to elbow your way through a crowded bar and hopefully be able to stand successfully in one place without getting stampeded.
In between handing out shamrock punch, a lime sherbert ginger ale concoction and doing my best jig impression I even had time to break for the mandatory corn beef and cabbage.
Suffice it to say-I’ve done my Irish duty. I’ve given my grandmother one less day to be rolling over in her grave…..I’ll leave the other 364 days to accomplish that.