Weather is therapy

At least if you’re in London that is.

I arrived yesterday and had a mental breakdown. It has already happened at two of these events: they misplaced my luggage.

We don’t know where it is. Don’t worry. It should be at your hotel tomorrow.

Ooooo. Great. I’m really happy to hear this. I left the airport feeling defeated after sticking around for 2+ hours yesterday after we arrived. Just great. I looked like a tourist walking Victoria Street to the Thames as women strolled past in lovely sun dresses, sandals, tank tops while the guys donned shorts and tees. Fine. I’m in all my glory, sweaty in my sweatshirt, heavy socks, sneakers, jeans, etc. I haven’t brushed my teeth since before I left for the flight which laid over in JFK and on and on and on. I felt like a little girl who had no control over what she wore or selected while shopping because she didn’t know best; Mom did. And so while I envied all the cute skirts and fun outfits I saw on the people walking along the water, I thought, am I going to be wearing this for the next 24 hours or more?

No, thank God. I got my suitcase late last night with all the lovelies I packed knowing that it was going to be heavenly here. All the fun clothes I purchased while shopping with Mom on Friday when I turned the big 2-7 were folded just so in my suitcase. Yup, they were there. I gained back my peace of mind and felt great this morning as I finished getting ready to attack my clients with enthusiasm, confidence and excitement.

That’s right, it’s my show and for once it’s not about my boss and what’s new with her. It’s about what I know, what I think, and the work that I do. And for once, it feels frigging good to be where I am.

More later.

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