So I’m living in Indonesia with my husband and son, because my husband’s job brought us here. But we do own a home in the US, although we generally only see it for a few weeks every summer.
My husband and son are vacationing at our house right now (I’m still in Indonesia, couldn’t go along this year). We were just talking on Skype, and I mentioned that I was getting a lot of things done that I usually don’t have time for, like practicing the piano.
“Oh yeah,” says my husband. “I saw the piano at our house here, you must have acquired that last year after I left.”
Um, I don’t remember buying a piano. And while my memory sucks, it generally only fails on mundane things like where I put my purse down. Big things, like buying a piano, I generally recall.
So there is a piano in our house, and we haven’t got the faintest clue how it got there.
Perhaps he meant it was a piano accordion. Because every house has one of those, hidden under the stairs until it gets unleashed during the frisky season.
Two years ago, a piano of unknown origin was found on top of a mountain in Great Britain. The only logical conclusion, now that there is record of a second piano appearing under mysterious circumstances, is that there is a parallel universe full of pianos. Occasionally, a hiccup in the space-time continuum opens a hole to the other universe, and a piano drops through to ours. Simultaneously, random socks are transferred to the other universe, which is why you end up with so many un-matched socks in the laundry.
