Four hours after I arrived at work, I left, my blazer still thoroughly soaked from the walk there. I was running late this morning and naturally didn't think to put a heavier coat on. After a couple minutes, I performed my periodic rain ritual: wishing I'd bought an umbrella.

I don't own an umbrella. Umbrellas, though, are handy. Especially handy when it comes to percipitation. Percipitation, noticeably when coupled with a chilly wind blowing directly across your bare forehead, can be both an annoyance and a pain. This pain could be countered by an umbrella. An umbrella would be a nice thing to have.

Again, I don't own an umbrella. This is not to say I don't want one. In fact, I'd very much like to own an umbrella.

However, I'm a terrible shopper. I can spend nearly an hour in a grocery store and leave with only a loaf of bread and some miscellaneous fruit, while hovering in the vicinity of the toothpaste, not really sure wether I dare actually attempt to pick out toothpaste. Recently, I couldn't remember the name of this brand of bread my friends had recommended to me, panicked, froze, and went a few days without bread.

Umbrellas come with a similar dilemma. What I want is simple: an unassuming, portable, modern umbrella. I can't find one that I like. At least, not one that fits those requirements. I rather fancy the old-fashioned, cane-style umbrella, but I'm looking for something that will fit neatly into my bag. Everything's too flashy, too large, or too ridiculous. At least, everything that I've found.

Surely, somewhere, some store stocks a plain, black, compact umbrella. I've already made three attempts to purchase an umbrella this season. Alas, it's been to no avail. Perhaps I'll venture another run. Scout some new store.

In the meantime, I'll have to hope it doesn't rain too much. Because hoping really accomplishes a lot.