Terre Haute Living August 2018 - Page 62

WRAPPING IT UP THE RIOT ACT STACEY MUNCIE One in the house, two in the car ... You can never have too many umbrellas N ot too long ago, I went to Hobby Lobby for something specific. This is how it always begins with Hobby Lobby, but doggone it, they just have so much cute stuff. And so, as I was perusing an aisle of sum- mer patio accoutrements … corn cob holders shaped like flamingos, dragonfly garden doo- dads, and rustic Americana signs hand-paint- ed somewhere in China … I found hanging at the corner of a shelf a rack of umbrellas. Festive, summer-ish umbrellas printed with bright, happy colors, made to look like a giant slice of kiwi or a round of watermelon. Anoth- er looked like a slice of lemon. They looked like food. Cute food! How could I resist? Well, I did resist. For a minute. Because I have at least four umbrellas already and it would be silly to buy yet another one just because it looked like cute food. But wait … my daughter was just crying a waterlogged lament the other day after she schlepped in out of the rain saying she needed an umbrella. I’ll buy her a cute food umbrella, thereby satisfying my desire to acquire one of them, and yet not seem like the self-indulgent first-world consumerist that deep down I ap- parently am. In fact, I’d just seem like a good mom. Hooray! Go, me! So, I bought the watermelon umbrella and the kid was mighty pleased that she could now stay dry cutely. And I felt a sense of accom- plishment for having exercised what anyone would recognize as a darn-near grown-up adult person’s level of self-control. After all, I have four umbrellas already — one in the house, two in the car, and one at the office. Geez, did you really think I’d by another one for myself just because it looks like cute food? Of course not. Not too many days later, it rained. And it rained, and rained, and rained. And then it also rained. My umbrellas and I had been doing this business of shuffling from car to 62 Terre Haute Living • August 2018 house to office, and back like the slowest, saddest, soggiest relay race ever. No problem. One morning, it didn’t look like it would rain when I left the house and I finally didn’t need to think about an umbrella. Hooray! Finally, it’s stopped raining! Until I got almost to work. And it began to rain. (I understand that rain is necessary, but I really hate it. Not exactly that I hate rain, I just hate being rained on. I lit- erally stood in the doorway at Meijer for 10 minutes not too long ago waiting for the rain to let up because I haaaaaaate be- ing rained on and then being sopping wet.) As the rain began to fall that morning and I swung my car into the parking lot, my mood sunk as I realized that I’d forgotten something — an umbrella. I scoured the car, looking for a spare, but somehow in all the raining and shuffling of the previous days, I’d managed to lose track. What a great way to start the day. The truth is, this actually happens on a fairly regular basis, because I’m not quite as responsible as I’d like to think I am, and also because when you buy cute cheap umbrellas on a whim, they tend to break. And so, the moral of this story is that self-control is highly overrated, and the only way I’ll probably ever not be stranded in the Meijer doorway or working through lunch to avoid being rained on because I screwed up the umbrella rotation (again), is to just buy every cute cheap umbrella I see. Lemons, kiwis, one that looks like a big pug face, polka dotted, and striped. Of course, they’d proba- bly all end up in a nice, dry place together — somewhere far, far away from where I stand in a doorway trying to wait out the rain. Stacey Muncie is a free- lance writer, humorist, proud Hautean, and all-around word nerd. Her light-hearted rants cover topics ranging from peevish to “Daang! Stacey can be reached at stacey.muncie@ gmail.com. Follow her on Twitter @Stacey Muncie or facebook. com/StaceyMuncieWrites. tribstar.com/terrehauteliving