The end is the beginning

I would like to say it’s the final day of chaos, but that would be optimistic. The movers arrive at 8:30 this morning (The potentate of totin’ freight!) and by evening, I hope, life will have returned to normal.

My challenge today is to figure out—while I have movers—how to reassemble the living room with the new bookcases—which will go at the opposite end of the room along one wall—because we will be using less furniture. I have a tentative plan, but until I see it, I won’t be certain what will work. I like the spare look of the room, and want to preserve it as much as possible. The resonance is better that way, too. Many of the best concert halls are wood.

Then I have to figure out how to dispose of the old bookcases and a dining room sideboard (purchased by my late mother-in-law and me at an estate sale) I no longer want. They have served their purpose.

Finally allowed to walk on the new floors, Auggie investigates. That wall is where the new bookcases will go.

I also have to figure out how to arrange the 40 or more crates and boxes in the crawl space so as to leave the boxes of books—which will not have a home for a few weeks—and get to the crates of all the other bazillion things that are behind them. I will be spending a lot of time among the dust and spiders today. My husband has the job of taking the dogs to the cottage.

I have cut out felt and glued or slid-on the variously appropriate floor protectors on most of the furniture—I couldn’t turn everything upside down, so some will have to wait—washed the sofa slipcover so it will be damp and ready to stretch over the arms more easily, hung a few paintings and a mirror, and gotten cash to tip the movers. I notice this morning I have rubber cement in my hair from gluing the tips onto the upended loveseat.

Last night my husband brought a pair of cushions up to sit on the floor to hear me play. By the time he’d returned with a cognac, Auggie had taken up residence, so my husband went back to fetch beds for everyone. Then I opened the lid all the way, and we had an initiation program. The sound is amazing to someone who has played a little spinet all her life. The high end just sparkles, and the bass has deep, clear resonance. The touch is perfection, so different from the flat unresponsiveness I’m accustomed to, and that will require practice for me to get used to. With no other furniture in the room, it’s loud!

If it’s soft and on the floor, it must be for Auggie

Family piano celebration

From the time it was delivered to a few hours later, the tuning had begun to go off in the bass notes as the instrument adjusted to its new environment. The technician comes in two weeks to set things right, adjust the humidifier (which is just visible underneath the piano in the big photo below), and do all those kinds of important things. Unfortunately, the piano bench was damaged in transit. So today I have to call to arrange the repairs. By some wild stroke of luck or foresight, when they took the old piano, I kept the bench, so I will still be able to play comfortably. Yay, me.

The last thing I did before bed last night was to sit down at the piano and practice four bars of a sonata that had been vexing me earlier. My fingers want to go faster in the earlier bars, but are not ready for that section at speed. Back to basics.

***

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And now for your gratuitous piano photos:

The piano moving crew chief was a woman, and clearly a musician.