I always carry an umbrella. I live in Chicago, which is called “The Windy City,” but should be called, “The City of Unpredictable Weather.” When I arrived here over a decade and a half ago, I believed in the power of the weather reporters to predict the weather.
I have since realized they cannot do so, at least it doesn’t seem they can here in Chicago. I remember going for a job interview, wearing a fine wool suit. When I left home, the sun shone brightly and I got on the train to downtown.
When I arrived, the skies opened. To say it “poured” is an understatement: in under two minutes, I looked like a drowned rat and smelled like a wet sheep.
Since then, I’ve kept a portable umbrella with me at all times in my satchel.