A few weeks ago, I bought a baby grand piano at an auction. Another one. I don’t play the piano. Maybe my kids will.
As a newly converted auction fanatic, Joel was happy to trot along to small towns across our part of the state to attend sales. We had recently completed our second-story pergola project, and needed some furniture. This particular auction had several pieces of rattan and wicker that would fill that need nicely.
Joel was getting so comfortable with his newfound hobby that when we arrived, he began poking through boxes. I had my fingers crossed that this particular auction would not have much in the way of extension cords.
A baby grand piano caught my eye. This was a beautiful instrument, likely worth much more than it would bring. No one in his right mind wants to move a grand piano, baby or not.
I furtively snapped some pictures with my phone and sent them to my musician friends for advice. Both experts assured me that this piano was no dud.
Our daughter Clementine had pretty much exhausted the two boxes of crap that I had bought for a dollar to keep her occupied, so Joel took her to the park. I was only too happy to see them go, because I had spotted some rusty shovels I knew Joel would be eyeing for his collection of broken garden tools.
The wicker furniture was at least an hour off and my bidding card was burning a hole in my pocket. When the piano came up, I swore I would only go to $500, which was significantly less than my two phone-a-friend advisors had told me to bid. To summarize, a few minutes after he left, Joel received a text that simply said, “We are now the owners of two baby grand pianos.” I won’t tell the radio listeners what Joel texted in response, as this is a family friendly show.
Since we now had a piano to haul back to our home over an hour away, the question of whether we would purchase the wicker furniture was no longer relevant. We did not have the room in our trailer.
He and the auction crew secured the piano to the trailer. All the way home, Joel called around trying to find some men to help us get the piano into the music room. Must have been a summer cold going around, because the first several buddies he called had all come down with illness and were unable to pitch in. He finally located a friend that said he could talk some other guys into meeting at our place to help move the piano into our home, and we were in business.
When we pulled up, the four men, including Joel, grunted and sweated. I held the door, but you know the old saying, “Horses sweat. Men perspire. Women only glow.” I’ve never been much of a sweater, even when I’m exerting myself as I clearly was. I was a bit put off by the amount of perspiration dripping off my husband and his buddies. I mean, I understood it was a piano, but it was only a baby grand.
As the men set the piano down in the music room, their eyes fell upon our otherbaby grand. I must have experienced a delayed reaction to my earlier exertion, because that’s when I began to sweat.
“What the hell you need two grand pianos in here for?” said one of the guys. I laughed nervously, “Ha ha. We are going to open a dueling piano bar in here.”
The men must have been too exhausted to laugh. Once they had the piano situated, one of them goes, “Hey, you guys should open a dueling piano bar in here.”
Guffaws rang out. My sweet Joel slapped the guy on the back. “Good one! Ha ha. My gawd, how do you come up with this stuff? Dueling piano bar . . .”
“Can I come for a beer and a concert?” said another guy. “I’ve gotta tell my wife about this! That’s funny.”
Suddenly, I didn’t feel as guilty about the heavy lifting. I said, “Thanks, guys! I really appreciate your help.”
As the men left, I heard Joel say, “Guys, I owe you a beer. Sorry my wife didn’t thank you. She’s got a lot on her mind.”
This is Valerie Brown-Kuchera, the Little Spouse on the Prairie. Let’s interact on the “In-House with Little Spouse” discussion on The Little Spouse on the Prairie Facebook page. You’ll also see a link to the theme song writer’s music.
