Lay the light flat on the floor

Turn the lights off and put a light on the floor. Thirteen separate conversations say this — thirteen separate conversations — and the mechanism is simple once someone says it: a shard lying flat is invisible from standing height under a ceiling light, but a beam skimming across the floor makes it glint, or throws a shadow many times its own length. One account says the brighter the light the better; one says a small dedicated torch is more useful for this than a phone’s flash and worth owning for other daily uses; one says the trick is what makes the job possible at all when your eyesight is poor. Call it a torch or a flashlight — the people here spent a remarkable share of one conversation arguing about the word, and this page uses both and moves on. Where to point it is the second half. One account says the pieces end up about four feet from where the glass landed; one says they slide into the next room and along the walls, especially behind an open door; one caution says they reach furniture. One account sweeps in a grid over a radius of ten feet or so before trusting the floor. So: the light goes round the room once from each side, then along the skirting, then through the doorway, and you stop when a full pass shows nothing.

Five things, and the people here disagree about the order. Nine separate conversations push a slice of bread down onto the spot — the soft crumb grabs particles a broom rolls over — and three cautions rated high say the same thing about it: that bread is not food afterwards, for you or the dog. Seven conversations wipe the area with a damp paper towel or cloth, which lifts the dust and the fragments sweeping leaves; one account makes a dustpan out of wet newspaper for the same reason, and one mops afterwards — though whether a wet mop is necessary after a good dry clean is a question that went unanswered. Three conversations use packing tape or a lint roller pressed over the floor, and one exchange, one account to two, is tape against the light: tape is faster on a small patch, the light wins when the pieces have scattered, and one caution says tape misses anything outside the spot you thought of. Then the vacuum, which seven conversations reach for and two note comes with its own headlight for exactly this job. The arguments are about where it goes in the order. In one conversation three accounts say do the manual work — bread, damp towel, light — before or alongside the vacuum, and two say the vacuum is the tool and the rest is unnecessary; the decider they give is whether you have one and whether you value speed over checking by touch. Another, one account to two, has the one saying a vacuum is enough and the two saying the light is what finds the last, sharpest piece the vacuum missed, and two cautions agree the vacuum alone leaves the scattered ones. One contraindication is for people with joint pain who cannot lug a heavy upright: a light or battery one instead. This page’s own order, built from the accounts’ methods plus the gloves line it adds: big pieces by gloved hand, vacuum or sweep the area wide, bread or damp towel over the spot, then the light — and the light again after.

No — and this page is overruling eight conversations to say so. Eight separate conversations describe walking barefoot over the cleaned floor as the final test, on the theory that pain finds what eyes miss, and three more accounts say it in passing as if it were normal. Against them, two contraindications say do not, one caution rated medium says it leads to cuts that need tweezers and attention, and three objecting accounts say so, and a fourth describes a deep cut and real blood loss from doing exactly this. The person who started one of these conversations answered that they would not sacrifice a child’s foot to a test. This page takes their side. The reason the barefoot test tempts people is that it works — it does find the last shard — and the reason to refuse it is that finding it that way is the injury you were trying to prevent. The light does the same job without the blood.

Three honest gaps, and the people here name them themselves. Carpet: one account says glass in carpet is the hardest case and causes deep injuries when it is not fully out, and the accounts gave no method for carpet or upholstery — the light still helps, the tape and the vacuum still help, but no one here has a tested answer, and this page will not invent one. Disposal: how to throw the collected glass away safely went unanswered and one account gives the only answer anyone offered — wrap the large pieces in foil, or something thick, so they do not cut through the bag and into whoever lifts it. Cuts: how to treat a cut from a shard mid-clean-up went unanswered, and the accounts say ‘tweezers’ and nothing more; first aid is not on this page, and this page’s own line, not the accounts’: a deep cut, a piece you cannot see the end of, or bleeding that does not slow is a reason to stop and get it looked at. Gloves: five people asked and the question went unanswered, so the line about gloves in the safety note is this page’s own.