I stole an umbrella and other pointless decisions that cause long term anxiety

The other day I was on the Upper West Side, it started raining and I didn’t have an umbrella. I ended up buying a $20 umbrella I didn’t need because I already have seven umbrellas in my closet at home in Brooklyn doing me no good. One umbrella I took from a party when I was stoned. It’s very pretty and unique looking. I barely ever use it for fear the rightful owner will spot me a mile away and run towards me throwing stones and calling for others to also torture the thief. I feel like a high end art thief, my friends come over and I pull out the stolen umbrella, "Isn’t it beautiful? It’s a shame it will never be seen in public again"
My new umbrella is leopard print and the perfect size, if I may say so myself. I walked by somebody who didn’t have an umbrella and suddenly felt like I wanted to explain to them that I too had forgotten my umbrella and although she was soaking wet and I was bone dry, we were actually quite similar.
I have mixed feelings about umbrellas. Their main purpose is to allow you to go do things you probably don’t want to do anymore because it’s raining and you now prefer to stay home and not do anything but the umbrella makes it possible. So there is that. Also I hate the whole putting up the umbrella, putting down the umbrella. It’s always something. Even with a brand new umbrella I had to figure out how it works. Let’s get a universal umbrella system. I should never have to learn a new umbrella again. I stand by that statement.
Then you have to put it down. It’s always a little song and dance. You don’t want the umbrella that has been keeping you dry to suddenly turn on you. You look polished, put together, prepared for the weather then moments before you get to the “you have to be there no matter what the weather is” event, you have to wrestle a wet umbrella. You thought you were in the clear, dry, feeling confident. You were aware of the weather predictions and everybody knows it. Now suddenly you are trying to keep a wet umbrella still while you struggle with it’s mechanical idiosyncrasies. Now there are water droplets on your face and chest. Your calm confident mood has changed to one of frustration and anger towards an inanimate object. The whole thing is emasculating, even for an ultra feminine woman like me. Wink wink.
My mother wears rain ponchos now. She gave me one. I feel foolish in it. I’m not an authentic rain poncho wearer. I’m doing it in order to not carry an umbrella. I feel like a fake fisherman walking the streets of Brooklyn. “Has anybody seen my vessel? I’m dressed for a job I can’t do. Ask me how I feel about umbrellas”
I won’t even get into the tent on a stick umbrellas people carry around on the jam packed streets of New York City.
“My cousin had an event tent he was throwing out so I stuck a few sticks in it and whaaalaaa I have a 7 man umbrella that only one person will stand under, ME! Step aside residents of this overpopulated city, I am a jackass in the rain”
Thanks for listening!
Kendra is a stand up comic living in Brooklyn. She is the proud owner of a $3000 bed where she eats, drinks, and occasionally entertains.
twitter @theotherkendra
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