The curse of the white shirt

It happened AGAIN.

I just searched my own blog for my entries about my demon white shirt, but I couldn't find them. Nonetheless, I want you to reach back into your encyclopaedic memory and recall that whenever I wear a certain white shirt, the rain comes a-pourin' down.

I am, however, getting sharper in my old age. The sky looked clear, the world seemed sunny. But I knew better. I was wearing The Shirt. I had to run errands in Coolidge corner - RadioShack, CVS, hither and thither... I was trying on sandals in Simon's shoe store when I noticed the world outside for a moment. The sun disappeared. People scurried through crosswalks to the safety of awnings. A mist sprinkled the window, tiny specks of water in a huge constellation.

I did not curse my shirt this time. Oh no, I looked upon the gray day with perfect satisfaction. My white shirt has a new, automatic accessory: a blue umbrella. Take THAT, Mother Nature! I am a GENIUS!