I broke a mirror the other day. Not by looking in it, before you ask. No, this smashing experience was thanks to our old front door. Which currently resides just to the side of our new front door in the hallway while we wait for it to be taken away.
It was one of those experiences that probably only lasted a second but felt much longer. I must have stepped on the wrong floorboard as I didn’t make contact with the door at all. The next thing I knew, a dark shadow loomed over me and I instinctively stepped away. Just in time to simultaneously miss out on a nasty concussion and witness it smashing into our large hallway mirror.
I immediately put the door back and then wondered what to do about the mirror. One large shard of glass had fallen to the floor and the others had settled into a precarious formation within the frame. As I stood there pondering how to tackle it without horribly injuring myself, the remaining shards suddenly lurched downwards.
They didn’t actually fall to the floor but I was treated to three views of my terrified face from ever-so-slightly different angles. It was like an advert for a horror film in which they show audience reactions. Albeit with a cloned 40-something in need of a shave.
Now, obviously, I don’t recommend breaking a mirror. But if you ever do, don’t remain in view of it while the glass is succumbing to gravity. You’ll never forget how ridiculous you look.
I eventually worked out that the best approach was to position a few cardboard boxes on the floor and use a telescopic decorating pole to knock the pieces into them. It was a surprisingly effective approach.
After vacuuming the hallway as much as Lady Macbeth would, it was time for the next consideration. That of the famous belief concerning an extended period of misfortune.
As you can probably guess from my fairly flippant tone – plus the fact I mentioned Lady Macbeth by name – I’m not superstitious. I’m pretty sure I once repeated the name ‘Candyman’ into that very mirror too. But, as pretty much everything in life feels uncertain and unprecedented at the moment, it did get me wondering for a bit.
I found myself considering the consequences of the mirror gods’ wrath for smashing one of their own. I’ve supported Spurs for over three decades – haven’t I suffered enough?
Then I found myself trying to mitigate. I’ve been in and out of jobs for the last three years. I’ve been the Unlucky Alf of content design. So, if the saying were true, the mysterious entities bestowing bad luck should reduce my sentence of misfortune to four years.
I quickly came to my senses and saw the funny side of it all. Only I could break a mirror without making contact with either it or, indeed, anything else. Plus this all happened while the kids were at school and the cat was asleep elsewhere, so things could have been much worse.
Then I looked into how much a replacement mirror would cost. Maybe there’s something in that saying after all…
