pride

It was pouring rain, the wind was whipping around, but I left the store jauntily carrying my sole purchase, a new black umbrella. I thought I was very clever. Here I was, armed to take on the weird Michigan winter rain storm while other shoppers were scampering in and out of the store, bareheaded, without even as much as a hood to cover them.

I didn’t get more than 20 feet away from the store when the wind got a hold of my new umbrella and started whipping it around. Since I was holding my new umbrella, I went whipping around as well. Picture Mary Poppins, gently wafting down to the ground, umbrella in one hand, carpet bag in the other, ready to take on the day and conquer two obnoxious children plagued by an absentee, uptight British father. Well, this wasn’t that. Instead, one must picture me clothed in my usual Saturday attire, threadbare jeans which I am hesitant to toss because I don’t believe I can replace them now that Marshall Fields has become Macy’s and I can’t find the same model, grey t-shirt, blue hoodie and lastly, a black ski vest, which I wear because I think it looks cool even though I’m terribly cold in a ski vest due to the obvious lack of arm covering necessary in inclimant weather. My shoes of choice are usually my brown moccasin slides, incidentally stained with olive oil due to yet another tragic kitchen mishap. The slides I purchased with a bit of skepticism, because I think it is a tad ridiculous for stores to sell backless shoes in the winter in a wintery climate, but again, they looked really cool in the ads, with the tall models wearing the mocs in the Land’s End catalog frolicking in the woods with a fishing rod in one hand and the leash to their lumbering golden retriever in the other hand.

So I’m chaotically being flailed around in a fierce gust of wind. The rain is pounding on me sideways, wetting my arms that would have been dry if I had been less vain and had bought a jacket with actual sleeves, the backs of my feet getting soaked (a sight not seen in the Land’s End catalog when the models are happily trudging through the elements, scampering Golden Retrievers in tow) thanks to the lack of backs on my olive oil-stained moc slides. My brand-new umbrella, of which I had so much pride and love for, at least in the 45 seconds that I owned it, gave up, turning itself inside out, saying "uncle" to the ferocious storm. I flung myself towards my car, broken umbrella in tow, tossed it in the back and drove home, wet, chilled and umbrella-less, yet again.