Some people might say that in the wake of a breakup you mourn the loss of your lover, your confidante, your best friend. You might feel as if you’ve lost your sounding board, your cuddle buddy, your default dinner date. Maybe in some cases, depending on how the relationship dissolves, you lose your dignity?

Well, I lost my fucking umbrella.

I didn’t realize this until months after the actual breakup because DC had an unseasonably hot and sunny summer. I traveled to and from work every day for weeks without ever considering the consequences of a thunderstorm. Blue skies prevailed.

Until today.

What an annoying way to be reminded of a relationship’s demise.

I’m just sitting here cold, wet, and pissed off all over again.

And I’m wondering, did we really only have one freaking umbrella between the two of us? There must’ve been a few tucked away in a closet somewhere. And yet… somehow not a single one managed to make its way into any of my moving boxes.

Pathetic.

Did he hide them away on purpose? Was this a deliberate protection of his assets? Or, did he keep the umbrellas to himself in the hope that I’d end up stuck somewhere on a dark and stormy night and call him for a ride in desperation? Was it all a devious ploy to get back together?

Probably not.

Like… 90% not.

But I’m 100% drenched and totally cranky.

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