When we moved into our new apartment, we actually had space for a piano. I'm ashamed to admit this, but I obsessed about getting one and threw a temper tantrum or two because people weren't cooperating with me. Okay, so maybe i'm being a little over dramatic. I don't care. After all, this is about getting me my own piano.
Tim and I drove to see several and actually got a free entertainment center out of one visit. But... not piano yet.
My dad is "the piano man." No, not the Billy Joel type, but an actual piano mover, tuner, fixer uper--the works. I didn't think he'd let me buy one from him and I didn't want a piano out on loan, I wanted a piano to be actually owned by me.
Finally, he had one with me in mind and he actually offered to sell it to me. I'm sure he gave me a killer deal, but why should that even matter. I was going to buy my own piano. I would finally be able to practice at home and maybe even teach at home. This was going to be good.
Yup. it certainly was good, is good, and will continue to be good. Ryan, Tim, Dad and a neighbor helped haul it up our ridiculously steep stairs and now it is nestled against my front wall. It's gorgeous and even sounds gorgeous for an upright. I'm in love... :)
My dad videoed the first moments of me playing my new piano in my apartment.
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