Sometimes it is just the littlest things that push us over the edge.
There I was at 3:30 on a normal day with its normal highlights and frustrations. I had just left the post office and was crossing the street to the parking lot and my car. On the right I had my purse over my wrist, my umbrella in my hand and the mail sandwiched between my arm and my coat. On the left I was balancing a rather large package against my hip.
Midway across the street my umbrella gave up the ghost and collapsed around my head and shoulders, blocking my sight, wet nylon in my mouth, tines entangled in the front of my trench preventing me from easily extricating myself. Meanwhile I daren’t drop the mail in the middle of the road.
That was it.
When I got home G was in a tizzy about something but I just ignored him (it would not have been pretty otherwise) and made a cup of hot chocolate. Reading David Sedaris’ Me Talk Pretty One Day quickly lifted my spirits. I hadn’t read Sedaris before, I was laughing so hard I could hardly stay in my chair.
It was my favorite umbrella too, wouldn’t you know.