By this time tomorrow, I might have this piano. Might.
It's big. It's beautiful. It's heavy. I live in a second-floor apartment. With stairs. Stairs that turn. Twice. Stairs that seem to be floating in the air on a steel beam.
I called the piano movers and explained my stairs in detail. They seem to think it's no problem. I'm not so sure.
I keep looking at the stairs wondering if they will collapse under the weight. It scares me. Not even exaggerating. I even called and left a message with my manager to see if she knew the weight capacity of the stairs. I have yet to hear back from her. She probably choked on her lunch to hear that I was getting a piano. I assured her that I wouldn't play it during any times of the day that it might upset my ridiculously sound-sensitive, annoying, complaining, downstairs neighbor. Only I didn't exactly use those words. Just some effective voice inflection.
Please tell me it will be fine. Tell me they won't have any trouble getting it into my apartment.
Why am I so nervous? Maybe I'm just having a nervous breakdown over being back at work full time and it's manifesting itself in the shape of a piano. A big, beautiful piano. I'm so excited.
Tomorrow you will find out if I have a piano in my living room or one that's smashed all over the front of our apartment complex.
3 years ago