the great leslie

If it weren't for umbrellas, the rain wouldn't be so bad. I rather love it when I can stay in, reading and napping underneath the covers. Sadly, this is not a day I can stay home. So, I'm out in the world, and I've had to unearth one of my 17 umbrellas. Of course, I chose the one with the duck handle, which is actually a child's umbrella. Does this keep me dry? Um...no. But, I am not in danger of poking out anyone's eye either. My big blue- and white-striped umbrella is at my office, many, many subway stops away. Unlike the duck umbrella, there is a real chance someone could lose an eye with this one. Or, at least, that's what I am afraid of the whole time I am carrying it. And I can't ever get a real sense of my clearance. I just got a lot wider, but I can't quite tell how much, thus increasing my fear of poking a stranger's baby browns. And then, once you finally get inside, the umbrella is all wet and cumbersome. And since it's suddenly so unuseful, it's a huge liability. So what do we do with it? Throw it in a corner so it can dry or people can trip on it and forget about it. Hence the 17 umbrellas: you never have one when you need it and you have too many when you don't.

"Wear a raincoat," you say? Raincoats, I find, are also are very wet and cumbersome upon returning indoors. Not to mention my raincoat is bright red and utterly un-worklike. It has a hood, but it doesn't allow for any peripheral vision. That's a problem, especially when crossing the street. Also, the hood drips into my eyes and squishes my hair. My raincoat has great sentimental value, having survived the great road trip of 1996 without being stolen (as everything else, including the car, was), but it's not for slick days in the city. Rating: 4 out of a possible 10.

If I drove places instead of walked/bussed/trained places, I might not be so worried. I could just park my little hybrid and sprint to the door. Or if I didn't mind showing up places dripping with acid rain, I guess that would alleviate worry as well. It would be like a modern, urban, not-totally-gorgeous Venus, except on the shell of an umbrella instead of a clam.