Piano Time

When Adrienne and the kids moved in with me some 18 years ago, I had a piano. It was a beautiful upright--black, shiny, really very pretty. The sound was very good (for as much as I know about that stuff--all the keys worked). The warranty required that I have it tuned once a year and I religiously did. When the kids put their grimmie hands on my piano, I pulled out the windex and cleaned it. I never played it, because I needed to keep the cover on the keys so that they wouldn't get dirty. When I did play it, I was soon pretty much distracted into other things and the impulse never lasted too long. When Adam (then about three or so) hit his head on the side of the piano, that was the last straw and I sold it. It was a solid, reasonable and logical decision. I did not get a very good price (the first person who called scupped it right up), but I was determined to cut my loses and get rid of the large dangerous piece of furniture that was an uncharacteristic impulse buy after graduating from college. [Diamond earings (really--who can tell the difference from fake), a camero (talk about poor gas mileage) and a piano that I spent hundreds moving, twice and barely ever played.]

I must have been really mopey about it, because the next birthday or Christmas, my dad got me an electric keyboard. I hated the sound, I hated the key action, I hated that some pieces required more keys and the stand never put it at the right level for me to play properly AND I loved that keyboard immensely. Over the years I pulled it out sporatically and it was easy to play, easy to put away when I no longer played and easy to store and easy, easy, easy to take out again whenever I felt the urge to play the piano. It has headphones. It plays animal sounds and beats and is the perfect entertainment for young children (Adam when he was little and Caitlyn now). And yet... You always miss the one that got away. I've always wanted a piano.

I inherited some money over the past few years. When you inherit money, you need to be smart. It would be so easy to go out and spend, spend, spend and then it is all gone. Also, when you inherit money and other people know this, you start to become the answer to their problems. So my first thought was to be smart--pay down my debt. I wanted to put money into a retirement fund. I wanted to fix my house. I wanted to travel a little. But most of all, I wanted a piano. Be smart, I told myself, be smart. You don't need a piano, you need a new roof. Be smart, there are a lot of people depending on that roof. So I tried to make smart decisions. A friend had a crisis. A nephew went to college. A niece needed her own place. A different niece really needed some cash. A different niece really needed cash to maybe get a car. I gave out bonuses at my firm--I didn't realize how momentus that was until one staff person insisted on giving me a very hard hug. It is difficult to spend money on something that is completely illogical when someone else is hugging you so hard for sharing a little of what you have. So I do my best to make smart decisions--no piano--and unfortuneately no roof. Money reserves get smaller and smaller. Debt gets bigger and bigger and pretty soon, you are near the end. I have six things planned for the little bit that is left, but my firm is going through a weak period (there's a recession or something) and I cannot allow myself to spend any money. It is raining and we all know what that means--we better still have that rainy day fund.

So the realization hit me that I was not going to get a piano. I have illogically wanted one for so long, that I put on a big mope in my head. How does someone inherit money and end up with no piano. It just doesn't make any sense in that inner child (is that the id?) part of my brain that can't understand the word "no." Oh, and I joined weight watchers. I've lost 9 pounds--woo hoo, but I have to say no to myself A LOT. A LOT. No chocolate milkshake. No cookies. No cake. No potato chips. So the realization that the final answer on the piano (which in the back of my mind I always thought was coming right after the roof), was no, I put my proverbial foot in my head down. Oh no, I thought darkly--nobody puts Baby in the corner.

Fortuitously, I received a letter from Pasadena City College. They are having a piano sale of their used pianos and I have been specially selected to preview their selection. Special preview, by appointment only. How did I get on the mailing list--I don't know. Is it a good deal--I don't know. Do I have any idea how to buy a piano or even know how much they are supposed to cost--Nope. But I want one. There's no time left. In another minute, there will be no funds in my account. I have to act fast. Do not pass go, do not collect $200, go to the piano sale right now. So I made an appointment. I put the address in my map app on my cell phone. I left early to get there in plenty of time. I worried over parking. I turned too early and got lost. I found it anyway and the parking lots were completely empty (it was between semesters). I was taken to a very large room with hundreds of pianos.

The first upright that I saw was gorgeous. It had a shine finish that was a gleeming color between brown and burgundy--gorgeous. I played a few keys--kind of stiff action--just like my piano because I purchased it new. I had rented a piano years ago that had a nice loose action and that is my preference. Still it was so gorgeous. So how much is this lovely used piano that I am going to get such a deal on? $4,000. NOpe. Can you show me the pianos at the bottem of the price range. Thank you. So I was shown the back of the room. There were four pitiful, sad looking pianos. They were short--I guess they are called spinets. After I got over my initial pity for these sad looking pianos, one kind of called me. It was actually kind of pretty. Cherry walnut. Solid. I didn't recognize the make--something with a G--long word. It had an ugly bench, but the bench lifted up so that my music could go in the bench. Storage is an important element (I am the stupidest person on the planet). I played a few keys--wonderful loose action. Oh, oh, I'm falling in love. I sit down and play a few more keys. I play every single key (yes, one at a time--I don't really know how to play the piano) to make sure it is tuned and none are broken. Then the sales person sits down and really plays--it sounds beautiful. Very smart sales technique, because now I must have this piano. My life depends on it. It is not cheap. It costs more than I paid for a new piano some 20 plus years ago. I must have it. Delivery is extra. I must have it. I was told there was a one year warranty (didn't really matter--I was sold at hello). After I paid my money and signed the receipt a different person came over and said the warranty was only for 90 days. The lawyer in me protested and the id in me said "shut up--you must have that piano." I shut up. Buyers remorse was immediate. What if I move? I already have too much furniture. I don't even know how to play the piano. Ugh.

The piano was delivered and there is a resonance that shouldn't be there. It is already broken. I called about the warranty--some one will call me back. I called again--someone will call me back. I called about five times. They are coming next week. The g key sticks. It is practically broken. The f sharp sounds funny the first time it is played. After a few stricks it is ok (for all I know). The bench has already become the favorite dumping spot in my room. This morning Caitlyn saw the piano for the first time. She really enjoys hitting the keys and was only slightly off her stride when I insisted that she could not eat at the piano.

P.S. My other big personal indulgence from the inheritance--a toyota prius that I am noticing electrical problems with--I am a fool--you know the rest.