In which I overthink raingear to a really alarming degree.

I’ve just purchased a new Theberge-print umbrella. (Fellow Canadians might recognize Claude Theberge as a Montreal graphic artist who painted…well, stuff that looks really good on umbrellas, basically. Lots of romantic rain-swept landscapes with couples clutching hats and shawls, that sort of thing.)

Mine features little flocks of seagulls standing along the edge of a misty meadow, with bright blue umbrellas dotted in among them. I’ve been really quite smug over the whole thing; not only is it lovely and roomy but I have always had a soft spot for seagulls.

Anyway, so today I unfurl it into use for the first time, and I glance up at the pretty pattern, as you do (or if you don’t, never mind)…and I notice that something seems a little off, perspective-wise. That is, based on the position of the umbrellas relative to the birds, either somebody has taken the time to stick little paper parasols in among them, or these are feathered refugees from a Toho movie.

So now every time I use my lovely brolly, I’m forced to contemplate the possibility that a)there are bird-watchers out there with really strange forms of OCD, and/or b)the English countryside is doomed. Thanks a lot, Sears!

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