Sarah is right here. Since my parasol didn't match the wallpaper (or the drapes but that is an entirely different crisis altogether that would take up the better part of an hour to whine about), I have decided to have my father send a telegram to the parasol repairman to tell him to blast the thing.
Parasols be damned! I'm buying a new corset, to hold in my knowledge. As we all know that knowledge makes ladies husky and unattractive. Bad enough I haven't made a single spelling mistake in this entire blog entry. I'll never find a suitor this way...
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