I came home recently to find a giant mirror had literally fallen off my wall. I should’ve been shocked and shattered and oh my gosh all this bad luck, not good, but actually, I was delighted. The frame was a huge heavy mosaic given to me by a local artist, I was too shy to say I hated it, he’d insisted on putting it up, it had been on my wall for five years and really, it was awful.
I’m so polite that I kept it just in case he popped in one day. It was also a helluva thing to get up, weighing three hundred thousand tons and what kind of person gives a three hundred thousand ton gift anyway.
I’m lazy and was never gonna get rid of it.
Unless it crashed down into a zillion pieces.
Thank god it crashed down into a zillion pieces.
So I went to antique shops to find something to replace it with and found so many beautiful mirrors, I could’ve bought any of them, French, antique, sexy, exquisite, instead I came home with a, DON’T SHOOT ME, a stuffed deer. I know, it’s even worse than a mosaic mirror, much much worse, but it’s old and charming and weird and I didn’t shoot it, and it is really bloody gorgeous.
Weird but gorgeous.
And I’m about to hang it on my bedroom wall and holy fuck it is odd and somewhat kinky and I know I shouldn’t do it and I should return it and change it for a pretty mirror, but the deer is heavy and I brought it home and dragged it out the car and into my house and I’m too lazy to take it back.
What was I thinking?
I used to have an ugly giant mosaic mirror on my wall.
I’m about to have a deer.
I need a handyman, is all this is about, please someone, come over, help me with my deer, buy me a mirror, sort out my life, this deer is going to be here for the next five years, help and thanks and I swear I didn’t shoot it.
Not in the least.