The KINGDOM mirror– proving that you NEVER KNOW what is on the other end of a Craigslist ad.
After the Victorian wardrobe salvage saga…
After spending four hours in an unheated building.
After ripping apart a wall with a toothpick.
After loading and unloading a truck until nearly midnightā¦
Paul told me to stop looking on Craigslist for a while.
He said I had reached my quota.
I nodded and pretended like he was the one who made such decisions.
Then I went and looked on Craigslist.
Now.
Three things:
1. I have a totally ill-advised fondness for anyone named Rocky.
2. a FIFTEEN-foot-tall mirror is far too large for our house.
3. a posting with no photo = guaranteed garbage.
So I closed the tab.
But a few weeks later, I saw it againā¦ and the primordial-mirror-troll who lives in my head saidā you should find out what that is.
And I was likeā look, mirror-troll:
A. Paulās head will explode.
B. How would I get a 15 FOOT mirror into the house?
And the mirror-troll saidā what if itās fancy?
So I emailed the guy.
Did you read that?
Did you read it closely?
Is there any description that could possibly be more appealing, than something that looks like a KINGDOM?
No.
There is not.
So the mirror-troll was likeā S.C.O.R.E.
But I was likeā ummm hello, twelve-feet is still WAY TOO BIG.
The mirror-troll saidā I bet itās not that big.
I bet they didnāt even measure it.
I BET YOU SHOULD GET IT.
I was likeā word.
So on Saturday morning, I said to Paul, casuallyā do you want to go look at something?
I think his hair actually stood on end.
He was likeā WHAT?
No.Ā No, I do not.
I was likeā oh, okay, wellā¦ we could go this afternoon… if you wanted to.
You know what he said?
Nothing. NOT ONE THING.
That silence USED to make me insane.Ā But now I see it as a stage in the KĆ¼bler-Ross model of acceptance.
Not even twenty minutes later, he saidā what is this thing you want to see?
To you, this sounds like a question.Ā To me, it sounds like defeat.
So.
You can see that this is not precisely the kingdom’s home I had imagined; and I was sort of like, hmmmm… is it possible the mirror-troll has steered me wrong?
We rang the bell, and the guy came out…Ā He walked past us, down the front steps, and started down the sidewalk.
Paul saidāshould we follow you? Where are we going?
And the guy saidā itās in the alley, under a tarpā¦ it doesnāt fit in the house.
I really wish I had a photo of the look on Paul’s face.
Paul saidā wait. What?Ā How big is this?
The guy saidāabout 12 feet.
Paul saidāTWELVE feet?
We got to the backyard and I said cheerfullyā look! Thatās NOT twelve feet tall!
Paul acted like this was somehow not of utmost importance.
He saidā did you bring me to look at a mirror that was advertised as 12 feet tall?
And I saidā no.
It was advertised as 15 feet tall.
But I thought they might be wrong.
I guess Paul is jealous of the way the universe is my personal shopper because he didnāt even acknowledge that itās pretty amazing how I psychically knew this.
AND THEN:
I was likeā I think Iām going to have a seizure.
The mirror-troll saidā I TOLD YOU SO.
Proving for all time, that you NEVER KNOW what is on the other end of a Craigslist ad.
It’s probably total crap.
But it might be this:
I was likeā alrighty then.Ā YUP. For sure. I will DEFINITELY be needing that.
Letās pack it up.
Paul saidā are you kidding me?Ā Are you evenĀ seeingĀ the same thing I am?
And I was likeā look at me.Ā Look me in the eye. Do you really believe I am leaving here without this? Because I’m not.
If I have to go on steroids for the next six months? And get a trainer to teach me to dead-lift 1,000 pounds so that I can move it myself?
This will happen.
Paul has this look that he gets.Ā Where CLEARLY he would like to kill someone.Ā But now he is totally inconvenienced because he CANāT.
Because he has to move a giant mirror.
Obviously, Iām fine with murderous irritationā¦ itās a small price to pay for my everlasting happiness.
Besides, itās not my fault that the universe WANTS ME TO HAVE THESE THINGS.
It is OUTSIDE MY CONTROL.
We went home to get Brianās truckā¦ and on the way, I texted a photo to my mom.
She saidā WOW!Ā I cannot WAIT to see it in your house!
I told Paulā my mom loves it!
Paul said– thatās because everyone in your family is an insane enabler with no concept of reality.
Which is true.Ā And also why I love them.
Whatās that?
Youāre thinking this does not look totally reasonable?
Well, it is.
All we had to do was lay it on the bed of the truck.Ā And then use the magic straps which, for about five dollars and a lot of irritation, will do everything including hauling giant bookshelves up three flights of stairs.
Then we drove home on I-95, which is 14-lanes wide… and I have to say that there is nothing like transporting a Kingdom, down a freeway, at 60 miles-an-hour, while tractor-trailers blow by you.
You have not experienced the meaning of FUN, until you have done this.
Especially since everyone got to listen to me say 47,984 timesā OH MY GOD I CAN NOT BELIEVE WE ARE GETTING THIS.
CAN YOU BELIEVE WE ARE GETTING THIS?
I CAN NOT BELIEVE IT.
CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?
Everyone really enjoyed that part.
The guys who helped us get it in the house were likeā what are you going to do with it?
And Iām confused by what that question means.
Iām not going to DO anything with it.
It exists.
Therefore it is mine.
The End.
see the even GIANT-er FANCIER mirror I got at auction!
September 10, 2013 @ 10:53 pm
Oh wow! I could hardly believe my eyes as I read this blog. I think we were separated at birth. How many times have I put my husband through the same thing in pursuit of priceless junque?! The mirror is so fabulous I can hardly believe it. So glad I found your blog. Thanks for a really fun read!
September 14, 2013 @ 9:09 pm
Awesome post. I laughed all the way through. And I love that u already had the companion mirror at home! Can’t imagine driving in 95 with it though!
September 16, 2013 @ 1:53 pm
First off, you totally crack me up! And I LOVE everything about what you do and how you’re fixing up your BEAUTIFUL Victorian š
I finally worked up the guts to comment, because I just have to tell you that I had an awesomely similar experience and I suddenly felt very ‘kindred spirit’ -esque towards you and your adventures!! š Thanks for the fun stories!
September 23, 2013 @ 12:26 pm
So… not part of the Tiny House Movement… I’m guessing… š
October 4, 2013 @ 11:41 am
You are my hero. And you win at life. That is all.
October 4, 2013 @ 12:20 pm
Your post sounds like things I’ve done for far less interesting things, so I giggled the entire time reading. Fantastic mirror, I think it looks fabulous just sitting there. š
October 4, 2013 @ 2:50 pm
I LOVED your post Victoria. Please write a book!!!
October 4, 2013 @ 3:22 pm
i am loving ALL of it!! as I see the new Kingdom Mirror in place I notice a corner of some fantastic antique woodcarved goodness and wonder “what awesomeness is that?!!”
then I opened up the victorian armoire post! sweet baby JESUS! My husband and Paul must be related. Bless their hearts. š
October 4, 2013 @ 5:16 pm
I am new to your blog… You are a goddess of all things good and legendary on CL. I officially either love you or hate you.. not sure. Best mirror ever. and I don’t say that lightly!
October 4, 2013 @ 9:33 pm
I stumbled upon your blog yesterday after googling Victorian renovations. This post literally made me laugh out loud several times and GASP when I scrolled down to see the mirror reveal. I paused before scrolling to see it afraid it would be crap. Boy was I surprised! As surprised as you much have been! I am a lover of anything related to Victorian/antebellum/historical/salvaged/or just pure old junk. None of my friends “get it”, so guess I’ll just have to keep reading your blog!
October 6, 2013 @ 4:27 pm
So amazing! I started at Hookedonhouses and could not resist a peek under that tarp. I felt immense peace to see it in your living room, like I was home. Some things just can not be explained. Congrats..
October 12, 2013 @ 11:06 am
That is so fantastic. What a find…
October 16, 2013 @ 10:38 pm
Funny!! Lucky you to have the mirror but especially to have Paul and a truck!
October 21, 2013 @ 9:56 am
I can’t tell you how refreshing it was to just read this post. I think you have helped me feel sane again! The looks from my husband, the SILENCE… you hit the nail on the head! My experiences exactly. One other habit that drives me nuts. Every time we’re in the car and I say, “Oh look! Tag sale,” he pretends he didn’t hear/see and I SWEAR his foot depresses the accelerator ever-so-slightly… and then about a mile later he says, “Oh, did you want to go to it? Should I turn around NOW?” Wow. Anyway, loved the post. Sent it to DH, and I’m sure he’ll appreciate it, too.
October 23, 2013 @ 6:21 pm
I am not at all surprised that mine is the five hundred and seventeenth comment because this is the best post in the history of interior design blogging. The end.
And yours truly,
Phyllis
October 23, 2013 @ 9:01 pm
What other blogger gets 517 comments on one post? And most of us repeat the theme…..we love you, we miss you when you’re away from us, we are your friends and fans. If that doesn’t raise your self esteem, validate you in all you do, and make you queen of all bloggers, what would?! Others should bow to you. Get a crown. Or a tiara. That’s more sparkly and shiny.
October 24, 2013 @ 2:30 pm
THAT was the best story EVER!!! I laughed out loud, could relate to it AND forwarded it to my friends. Congratulations on a great deal and a story of a lifetime.
October 31, 2013 @ 2:10 pm
That is spectacularly gorgeous — I can’t believe it survived the truck ride!
December 4, 2013 @ 9:16 am
I just wanted to say that my fiance directed me to your post about the mirror because I did the same thing to him last weekend with an old wooden card catalog. “What are you going to DO with it?” he asked. I just had to stare at him because I couldn’t understand the question.
And I’m so glad to find people (soul trolls? love it!) who GET that!
(My card catalog is now a sideboard in my dining room.)
December 4, 2013 @ 9:34 am
Oh, how I’d love a card catalog. I don’t understand the question either. It’s what my husband would ask.