piano
the journal of Michael Werneburg
twenty-seven years and one million words
Tokyo, 2008.08.05
I got home tonight, soaked and exhausted from the simple commute home. I wasn't even cycling.
So I figured that I might as well move Mari's piano into the living room. It's been tucked away in the baby's bedroom since we moved in, but I wanted it to be available for her to actually use the thing.
Two screwdrivers and thirty minutes later it was done, both of us by then sweating and panting. And only one ding on a door and one scratch on the piano to show for our efforts.