Free Piano

Last night we called all two of our friends and they were either sick on the one hand or previously occupied on the other. It's a shame, but we've spent many (okay all but one) night in a similar mode since we've moved here. From this state of rejection and loneliness, we turned to the internets hoping to find some free dirt on craigslist for our new garden beds (that only a pre-architecture student could design, because they're gorgeous).

And thus was our evening occupation and source of entertainment. Looking for free dirt. We scrolled through the many entries on Craigslist and found a free compost bin (nice!), a free pile of top soil (sweet!), and a free piano (WHAT!?).

We booked it over there in reliable Truck # 7, and through my excitement I had to keep reminding myself that "if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is." We arrived in Springtucky at the failing non-profit to find 3 loitering individuals smoking in the store window. One was an abrasive woman attempting to charge her phone to call a cab. When we asked about the piano, the abrasive woman kept interrupting telling us that there was no piano and that we had better check the sound boards and that the sweet but awkward couple helping us were crazy. It took 3 minutes of her rants for me to decide that it was, in fact, she who was clinically insane. It made sense, too--when we asked what the non-profit had been, they informed us that it was a place for the mentally ill to hang out. And thus began the adventure.

The awkward couple had to balance their desire to let us into the building with their other need to keep Interrupting Cow out of the building. They finally settled on letting her come in to charge her phone for a few minutes and letting us see the piano. This compromise was thwarted by Interrupting Cow who decided that SHE was going to look at the piano and make a lengthy and detailed appraisal of the piece and issue stern warnings about us taking it home. It was uncomfortable. Finally, they asked her to charge her phone or leave. She eventually did, and we set about the task of trying to move the 90 year old Merrill to the back alley where Faithful # 7 awaited.

Two insane but jovial individuals offered their help, as did the awkward couple and the non-profit director. All of them were fantastic. But then, Mr. Killjoy (possibly insane? Perhaps a pinch of paranoia?) Forbade anyone from helping us get it out of the alley and into the truck. And somehow, his word was law. Everyone obediently went back inside. So there we sat on our piano bench, alone in the alley next to the halfway house for crazies. The parade of insanity began.

While Logan made desperate calls to people he knows, I entertained the crazies with conversation and Mendelssohn. First it was a scraggly man who offered his help--he informed us that he just had his Cannabis Spinach and was ready to go. Then there was a woman with long, blonde chin hair and seven lanyards who offered a book of Easter hymns to keep me entertained while I waited. Then Interrupting Cow strolled by again to offer her sage piano expertise and berate us for attempting to take it. She also wanted to use our cell phones. Then the awkward couple came out on the fire escape above for another smoke.

After watching us make several failed phone calls, they came down and offered their help. Then, hearing our audible grunting, the director came out and offered to help. His lanyard-wearing mother and the jovial crazy fat man were our cheerleaders. With 5 us, we got one end on the truck hitch and we pushed the other end inside. It just barely fit. Spirits were high without the cantankerous and paranoid Mr. Killjoy, and we all chatted as Logan braced the piano for our 10 minute ride home.

As we stood around talking, they offered to help us get it in our house and congratulated us on this piano. There was no other way to describe them other than genuinely sweet people. Albeit, genuinely nuts.

Logan's dad and friend helped us get it into the house, and we spent the rest of the night trying to remember how to play. It's funny to think that just a week ago, I sat in my living room staring at the completely blank wall and thought of how well a piano would fit there. It's been a riot!

And that's the story of my free piano.