Seattle: She's a Spiteful City

Along with my dignity, my umbrella didn't survive the weekend. And, pathetically, this is not the first time I've taken an umbrella out carousing and managed to leave it in the dank corner of some dive bar; apparently I've made it my personal mission to sprinkle the city of Seattle with them. Good for other patrons looking to stay dry upon departure, bad for me and my anemic bank account.

That being said, the fact that I was umbrella-less somewhat embarrasingly didn't even come to my attention until this morning, when I awoke to torrential downpours ("oh, it only MISTS in Seattle" - yeah, right) and then had to strategize the best way to puddle hop with the 17 bags, 3 meals and 2 changes of clothing that my 12-hour stints on campus require. Why? Because this entire weekend - as I laid on my friend's futon, while guzzling fruit punch Gatorade and cursing the high heavens for my inability to fend off whiskey gingers - it was absolutely gorgeous out. Why, WHY is it only on miserable, monsoon-like days that I need to be out and about? And why, on the days that I most closely resemble the walking dead, does the Northwest weather insist on being absolutely idyllic?

And, thus, this morning en route to the Women's Center, I careened into the closest Bartell's, all bulk and bags and bright green windbreaker, desperate for whatever they had to offer. My choices were limited (2), my mind still groggy, the fluorescent lights disorienting, and, due to my disdain for fuschia, I walked out with an umbrella that is, upon reflection, the color of ecto-cooler. Paired with my neon green "rain jacket" (it ceased repelling water about 3 months ago), I pretty much rival Wally the Green Monster. Good for biking at night, bad for getting people to take you seriously. Next time there's a rain storm, you'll easily be able to spot me from a mile away. But, if you don't come over to say hi, I really don't blame you. Here's to hoping that I lose this new umbrella real fast.