Sorry. I just couldn’t help myself. In case you haven’t read my last post, I mentioned in passing that umbrellas make me crazy and that I could probably write a whole post about nothing but how umbrellas make me crazy. After that kind of a set-up, I simply couldn’t resist. The unfortunate thing is that just yesterday I was trying to sell a skeptical friend on the idea of blogging, and I assured him that I try to only post things that I think are in some way relevant to people. And I really do fear that this post is going to make a liar out of me. And on that hopeful note I present five of the countless ways umbrellas make me crazy.
1. Umbrellas look stupid.
Especially those crazy bubble ones. But nothing is as bad as a hands-free umbrella. Please, just go google image search “hands free umbrella.” You won’t be sorry you did. But don’t forget to come back and finish reading the other four ways umbrellas make me crazy.
2. Umbrellas make me look stupid.
They’re all different, and I always look like an idiot trying to figure out how to pop one open. I struggle for a few seconds longer than I should have to and then it inevitably explodes open as I try to cover my startled expression. And once I’ve survived the saga of getting the ridiculous thing open, I look stupid just carrying it. The wind always winds up catching it and I get drug around like I’m trying to walk a great dane who’s just spotted the mailman.
3. I have a bad history with umbrellas.
I’ve never really liked umbrellas. I had a really cute pink polka-dotted one when I was a kid, but I always wound up pinching my finger in it when I was trying to get it open. (See number 2.) I think I felt kind of betrayed. How could something so cute as this umbrella be so mean as to pinch something so cute as me?? I was kind of a cute kid.
4. Umbrellas don’t even work.
Not unless I take tiny steps and it’s raining straight down. And just so you know, that never happens. I never take tiny steps because I’m never on time. And I’m tall. So I take sasquatch steps. This means that unless I’m carrying an umbrella the size of a circus tent, I step outside the protective nylon circle all the time and at least the bottom half of my body gets wet.
5. Even if umbrellas did work, I’d rather just get rained on.
I really don’t even mind getting rained on. Usually. Sometimes it’s actually kind of refreshing. Especially when it’s those big fat droplets of warm summer rain. It’s practically a sin to carry an umbrella in that kind of heavenly precipitation.
But it’s okay. If I ever change my mind and buy one, you can stand under my umbrella…ella…ella…
Don’t worry. I didn’t just write this entire post just so I could make that reference. Surely not.