My piano has been dismantled by a common peasant!


-cough-


No offence meant by the 'common peasant' part.


I meant. My piano is being repaired by the piano tuner guy. He came here to tune the piano, found something wrong with the entire thing. He took away something -I'm not sure, I wasn't here when he came- and the piano is currently unplayable.


And I'm realizing how much I miss my piano. dang, my fingers're itching to play invention no. 4. Bach, of course. I still prefer his E minor fugue, though. Well-Tempered Clavier.


I hate my piano, I hate playing it, scales are hard to play, pieces just won't agree with you, and more than once I've sort of slammed the lid down because of my frustration at not... playing a piece well.


But sometimes it makes me so damn happy.


And to think it's been there quietly all these years, taking the brunt of my anger, and yet it gives me pride when I play a piece well.


Giving, giving, never taking.


It'll be so different without it.


I love my piano.