Caught with my umbrella down

I admit it. I have a fault. I know, I know. Be still your beating hearts and all that jazz. You thought I was perfect. Oh, and those of you who know me for real, you can stop snickering now, especially you (you know who you are!). Actually, I have two faults. I do not like to be caught unprepared, and I have a low tolerance threshold for stupidity, ignorance and shallow conversation (does that one count as three faults? I mean, it's not like they're mutually exclusive or anything, and often go hand-in-hand!). For this entry, I'm only going to address the former, as the latter is no less deserving of its own entry, and actually, if I were to combine them, I have a feeling that I'd somehow manage to incriminate myself in a really outstanding way...

When I say that I don't like to be caught unprepared, it means that I don't like surprises. And when I say that I don't like surprises, I mean that I'm actually quite anal about it. Take the weather in Israel, for instance. Once autumn hits, I begin my assessment of the local umbrella situation. I have two – one small red one that fits in my bag quite neatly, and one large stripey, purply one that does not. As soon as there's a mere hint of rain in the air, the little umbrella goes into the bag, and stays there for the duration of the season. The large umbrella is kept by the door, saved for occasions when a forecast of rain is actually announced, at which point the little umbrella is taken out of the bag, shunted aside for one with more firepower. You see, the little one, while being extremely convenient due to its size, is also rather ineffective, due, strangely enough, to the same reason. Given my fifteen minute walk between the train station and my office, the thought of being caught without an umbrella when it rains sends me into a bit of a tailspin. Quite sad, really, but absolutely true. As such, the small one is for emergencies, so that I will always be prepared for unexpected rain shower.

Then there's the second umbrella. Having tragically taken the lives of two attractive, but clearly lesser quality umbrellas last year, both at the same location (crossing over a busy road leading over a highway that lies between two tall buildings, effectively creating a massive wind tunnel), I finally came to my senses. I walked into a store, prepared to pay whatever it took for strength, quality and peace of mind. I walked straight up to the counter and asked for the strongest umbrella they had (which, fortunately, was also quite attractive, for there's no reason to sacrifice aesthetics for quality, is there?). One tidy sum later, and I was testing my new purchase, which indeed proved itself to be quite strong, if not somewhat inconvenient.

"The bigger they are, the harder they fall," would seem like an appropriate sentiment, as the new umbrella, while triumphantly standing up to even the nastiest of winds, was rather unwieldy, to put it mildly. I became unnecessarily dependent upon the words of our meteorologists, lest I be unprepared when the storms hit. And therein lies the crux of the problem. These folks can't be trusted! For the last two days, I dragged my industrial-strength umbrella to and from work, working on the assumption that it was going to rain. Have you ever tried walking while carrying a large umbrella, a jacket slung over your arm, one laptop in what must be the biggest, bulkiest laptop shoulder bag ever created by man, and a large latté, which you struggle to raise to your lips intermittently, taking careful sips while trying not to spill, as a few drops inevitably manage to escape somehow? Not easy. Let me tell you. If I wasn't so talented, I'm not sure I could pull it off. But did it rain? Of course not! It threatened to, and there were even a few big fat drops of rain on my window yesterday afternoon, but certainly nothing that warranted my drastic umbrella measures. Once again, they got it wrong, and once again, I tripped my up and down the street so that I would be prepared. I think that I would probably be more successful at predicting their success rate than they are at predicting the weather. Then again, I imagine that I will continue to take them at their word, lest I be caught unprepared with my umbrella down.