Oh it’s true:
And it wasn’t just a picture. Oh no, this was mirrored tile. Glued to the wall.
Sam actually wanted to keep the Jesus mirror. Our friends also expressed Facebook angst about us removing it.
I was having none of it. I mean, there’s kitsch, and then there’s Kitsch. Not that I don’t love Jesus ‘n all, but having him and his apostles staring down at me while I sleep…or whatever…wasn’t really doing it for me.
Luckily for me, where Jesus & Co. was on the wall was also where the ‘closet’ was going (this currently consists of two brackets and a piece of dowel rod until we can agree on wardrobes). But, like the good and accommodating girlfriend I am, I did make an attempt to take it down intact so we could ‘move’ it somewhere else (!).
There was blood (a little), there was sweat (a lot), and there were tears (well, faked), but in a total tragedy of astronomic home renovation proportions, I’m afraid to say – the mirror broke. Yes, I tried to salvage a few squares – hoping at one point that if I could save Jesus’ feet I might be redeemed slightly – but that sucker shattered into thousands of horrible dangerous pieces. And yes, it did feel weirdly sacrilegious.
(- and if anyone has a line on a mirrored Jesus, let me know…I’m still not totally forgiven)