Confession: I’m a huge wimp. I mean, huge. And the one thing in this world that’ll make me wimp out faster than just about anything else is getting caught in the rain.
I wish I were kidding.
I break out in a cold sweat just thinking about that awful feeling of wet clothes smacking against my skin and water oozing into my shoes. I’ve been compared to a cat before, and when I’m caught in a downpour, even I have to acknowledge the truth in that analogy.
So imagine my frustration (frustration? Try fury) this morning when the skies opened up above me on my way to work. I had another six blocks to go, and was pretty much soaked through within two. My hair (which I actually took the time to style this morning) hung in the proverbial ‘ragged tendrils’ around my face, and my clothes were plastered to my skin. Where was my umbrella, you ask? Ah. Pardon my cynicism when I say it is true that no good deed goes unpunished. In an altruistic moment this weekend (it’s so easy to be kind on a free Saturday morning), I loaned it out to my sister. Who happens to be, as I remembered all too clearly this morning while I turned our little apartment upside down in my frantic attempts to find my umbrella, a perennial umbrella loser.
Although in this case the umbrella isn’t lost. She knows exactly where it is–as do I (now): it’s in Maryland.
And the lesson of this little anecdote? I’m still shivering in my damp clothes in my little office as I write this, and the sun is coming out–I saw it through my boss’s office windows when I stopped in for a brief meeting just now. I’m sure I’ll be laughing about this later. But for now the only lesson I can really say I’ve come away with is: hide your umbrella in your sock drawer, and if anyone asks you to borrow it…bite her. (Or him.)