Under My Umbrella; Ella, Ella, eh, eh, eh….

My first day back at work and God’s bladder has erupted!

I’m so pleased! It’s like he gets me.

Under my umbrella, Ella, Ella, eh, eh, eh….

I hope this song gets stuck in your head.  

Rainy days have their own pop culture anthem; come on; that’s pretty neat.

A friend of mine absolutely hated this song. It caused him physical discomfort whenever he heard it.

Naturally, we would sing it on purpose.

I even went so far as to buy him a dancing toy hamster. 

When you pushed the left paw, Rhi-Rhi junior would bust out her best dance moves and sing “Umbrella” in the tone of a Chipette. 

I haven’t heard from this person in five years.

I wonder if there’s a correlation.

I digress.

Back to the weather; do people ever want to bring the nice weather back with them from vacation?
Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of holidays and travel?

Wouldn’t it be cheaper to stay in one place? 

I mull this over.

This rain wrath is a commuting first for me. I’ve been subject to darkness, apathy, flurries, fear, sleet, snow and isolation, but never pure H20.

It’s like the universe is telling me to detox. 

I get it. I have lemon lime water in one hand; my wrist brace on the other.

Please don’t feel sorry for me. 

“Nero”  the name I’ve given my wrist brace has saved me from many slippery, chore like situations while on holidays. 

I couldn’t try wake boarding but I had a first hand view of everyone else wiping out. 

If you knew my appreciation for slapstick comedy, this was a real treat.

Back to today’s forecast.

It’s raining cats and dogs. I never understood that expression until about a couple minutes ago. 

I swear I just saw a chihuahua fall from the sky. 

I pointed him towards the nearest Taco Bell.

I’m pretty sure he mouthed me off; something about not being a stereotype. 

I smile because he’ll never find his way with all the one way streets in downtown Hamilton!


When did I become so anti Chihuahua, anyway?

I smile again. 

Many years ago, I worked with someone affectionately called “the Chihuahua.”

Ok, I confess. I made up the nickname. 

The best nicknames are the ones the person doesn’t know, right?

I just chuckled out loud at my own wit.

The passengers in this cabin are too occupied with trying to dry themselves off to notice.

Chihuahua was the perfect handle.

Much like a Chihuahua, this person was cute at first, then after a while, all you wanted to do was kick it. 

Or, as the mediator from HR would suggest; “after a while, once you’ve completed journaling about your triggers, you need to say three things you enjoy about this person.”

That was easy!

1. I love dogs.

2. I love Taco Bell.

3. I love meeting about these issues and chewing up some work clock. 

I never understood why these sessions were extended for two years.

Clearly I was doing the work.

Just because the literacy levels of dogs couldn’t be accounted for.

If you would believe it, this wasn’t my first inappropriate dog reference.

Once back in high school, the tough guy Librarian tried to use me a lesson for other patrons. 

He barked at me to use the other entrance! 


He blocked the entrance to prove his point, something I’m pretty sure could count as harassment by today’s standards.

I told him, very loudly; “I’m sorry, I don’t understand you…. I don’t speak dog!”

I was called into the Guidance Counsellor’s office to psychoanalyze my outburst. 

I put on my best earnest, apologetic face.

I practiced this face in my locker mirror before I went to my mini trial.

I was determined not to get into further trouble.

I had a plan. 

I was asked; “Why on earth would I say such a thing!?”

I opened my mouth the start my defence.

I couldn’t help myself.

I took it back.

I said he looked less like a dog and more like a squirrel.


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