Wednesday, October 01, 2008

The Test Of The Broken Mirror

I'm not a superstitious person.

Except for sports. Because there is no rhyme or reason to sports sometimes. So maybe the pair of shorts I wear will have an influence on the outcome of the Tiger's game.

But of course it won't.

But then again, nobody wants bad luck. I don't. You don't. If you can rationally make a case to do things that might make your luck better, you will probably adopt that case as a rational.

My lovely wife Darlene found a fantastic deal on a professional set of hair cutting tools. Shavers, trimmers, clippers, and scissors. It even had a cape like the barber will put over you.

But it didn't come with a fancy chair. Or a mirror.

Last night, I dragged my poor wife out to the garage, set up a wooden chair from our kitchen dinette set, and I grabbed a cheap plastic cased mirror from the bathroom.

And I pretty much forced her to cut my hair.

So Darlene shaved, and clipped, and trimmed, and snipped, and several hours later she was very proud of the job she did.

Darlene is not a professional hairstylist. In fact her bad back and failing thumbs actually proved to be quite an obstacle for her to overcome.

So I held up the little plastic mirror periodically, and exclaimed each time that she did a great job.

And she did.

Our two little girls came out to see what was going on as we were finally finishing up. And they were quite impressed also.

So we packed up the shaver kit, brushed up the loose hair, grabbed the wooden chair and the plastic cape, and we headed into the house.

"You forgot the mirror, Daddy!" said little Ashley-Rae, who still can't say her R's. "Mirror" came out like "meewer".

"Please grab it, sweetheart", I replied. "But be careful, we don't need seven years bad luck".

As the door started to close on Ashley-Rae stepping through, the mirror hit the ceramic tile in the foyer. And it broke into several large pieces.

Well, poor Ashley-Rae started screaming and crying as loud as if she were just told she could never watch TV again.

"I don't want seven years bad luck, Daddy, I am so sorry!" she said between loud slurping gasps of tears and screams. "I'm so sorry, I wrecked it! Now we won't have a house and we will have to live in the street!", she continued.

We picked up the glass so nobody would step on it and we threw it away. Then we picked up Ashley-Rae. And we tried to explain to her what a superstition is. That it's just a make believe thing. That everything will be ok.

And she finally settled down.

But there is still this little thing in the back of our minds that urks us. That's what's wrong with superstitions. If you think of it hard enough, bad luck will come.

This morning our alarm clock didn't go off.

Bad luck? Maybe.

But luckily Alannah just woke up, and she woke us all up.

Lucky? Maybe.

I guess we can say we are not superstitious, but the test is when you break a mirror.

And by the way, Ashley-Ray had her first cavity filled today.

And she thought it was fun.

No comments:

Post a Comment

I am anxious to hear your comments, but please keep them clean and appropriate for a family site, or they will not pass moderation.

© 2006 - 2017 Fred Brill - all rights reserved