I like to play in the kitchen. But my audience isn’t buying it, including the cat
There is a piano in our kitchen. It’s a digital piano, a few keys short of the full 88, that I bought for myself a couple of years ago. It normally lives in my office shed, but I carry it into the house on band rehearsal nights so the piano player can turn up straight from work.
After rehearsals it usually takes me a couple of days to summon the will to carry it back to my office – it takes three trips: piano, stand, stool. If I haven’t moved it after four days, I start to think about how the next band rehearsal is actually closer than the previous one, so at this point it makes sense to leave the piano where it is. As a result of this reasoning, the piano has been in our kitchen for a month.
