piano moving and grey hairs

I found out this fall how attached I am to my piano. I had to wait for my Mom to die before it was gifted to me. It was the piano that kept me alive during high school. I practiced hours a day.

Over the summer it was stored in a highway trailer while I was living off grid in my camper. When I moved, I asked Snake if he would move it for me. I had seen him in action before, and it was impressive. He enthusiastically agreed with no hesitation. But whenever I talked to him over the next couple of months, it was the same story, I’ll get right to it.

A long time later, and after being hassled by the trailer’s owner to get the piano out of there, someone told me that Snake had no intention of ever moving it. He was telling me he would do it, and was telling other’s he was not going to. (I was struggling with paranoia, and had constant thoughts of the piano being pushed out of the trailer with my other possessions. Destroyed.)

I have some choice words for this dude. A self-professed man of God. A hell and brimstone preacher man. Choice words that are not loving.

How about this for your next sermon preacher man. Let your yes be yes and your no, no.

My Dad and a friend came up with an ingeniously hair raising plan to move the piano. They came with a forklift and pallets. We loaded the piano onto the forklift then drove the forklift onto the trailer. At my house, we reversed the process. I got a few grey hairs that day!! But my piano is now safely waiting for me in my house.