tessitura

Last night, I decided to incorporate playing the piano into my daily stress busting routine. You see, I once played but like all things in life, if you are forced to do something when you’re young, inevitably you’ll just rebel and give it up. One thing for certain, my appreciation for musicality and tonal values was instilled at a young age. But God, I’m so out of practice. My playing wasn’t as fluid as it used to be and thankfully, my neighbour is slightly deaf. Less embarrassment.

I once dated a French Canadian who is a concert pianist who shall be named N. She used to tell me off when I hit the wrong keys. Compared to her, my childhood tutor was an angel. Ever the perfectionist, hours upon hours were spent on the piano. I couldn’t care much though because I was spending the same amount in front of the drawing board. Same wood, different use. Now recently married to yet another friend of mine (What the hell is going on?? I’m beginning to feel like a gatekeeper for my friends), I think it would serve best in their new dwelling than in my house. So, today I’ve booked the piano movers to transfer it.

Now that I've got this extra space, perhaps a quick stop at the Steinway & Sons would be a good idea. Model B would be a great replacement.