It was raining today. I didn't have an umbrella so I had to borrow one. It was a giant golf umbrella. My mother got me an umbrella like this for Christmas my freshman year in college. It was a tradition in my home every year for me to pick the most interesting looking present under the tree and vow to open it first on Christmas Day. My mother would wrap a present and inside that one present would be fifteen other tinier wrapped presents. I loved it! So, when I'd spotted this particular present, I was more than intrigued. It was long. Heavy. Distinct. I thought for sure there were hundreds of wrapped gems inside a long tube made of old paper towel rolls. Imagine my surprise on Christmas morning when I'd grabbed said present, ripped-off its paper, only to find...a giant umbrella. A giant umbrella with my school mascot emblazoned upon four of its sections. I was...mortified. There was no way I was going to carry that damned thing across campus! Was she crazy? Where was the jewelry? Where was the makeup? Where were all the quarters I was sure were stuffed into that enormous tube? Boo, I say. Boo, to giant umbrellas.
Well, today, I had to carry a giant umbrella across campus. Now you might think at my age, I wouldn't really give a flying fig what people think about me. You'd be half right. I don't care what people think of me, unless those people are practically de-eyed by the metal prongs of a humongous killing machine doubling as a water barrier. I nearly wiped out five people walking across campus to grab a coffee. I looked like the most ridiculous egomaniac.
I cannot have even one drop on my person. Under no circumstance is precipitation to touch my body at any time. Nor shall it touch anyone within a five mile radius of me.