Taming the Canopy

Rain was lashing against the entryway glass, and the floor by the door was threatening to turn into a slick pond from a dripping black umbrella left propped in the corner. I wasn't about to let that sloppy mess stand. I marched over to the heavy ceramic cylinder, jumped right onto the lip, and reached down for the loose nylon strap dangling from the fabric folds. The umbrella suddenly sprang outward, nearly knocking me off balance, but I dug my heels into the fluted ceramic rim and held my ground. With a resolute pull, I wrestled the wet nylon wings tight against the central shaft, wrapped the Velcro strap around the ribs with both hands, and snapped it secure with a clean, satisfying crunch. Order restored, right at the threshold.