Returning from a Common Swift gig in Kenosha on the night of September 26th, I discovered my apartment had been entered and burgled. At first, I thought that Greg's dog Lucy had just gotten rambunctious and overturned the couch cushions, but it quickly became clear that she couldn't have done the same to my clothes dresser...and with her amusingly large paws, I can't imagine that she'd find a lot of value in taking two of Greg's laptops and my keyboard. That's right - for the first time since birth, there is no piano in my house.
(On a side note, my old roommate Mike Schroeder has described the burglar as "Felonious Punk" - I had asked who steals a piano. He is a sick man.)
It's become clear over the last month that I can't go too much longer without some form of piano - I've been on the road doing archaeology the last three weeks, which minimizes the loss somewhat, but more and more often I've been getting a quick urge to play something. It usually takes 2-3 seconds before I remember that all I have is a piano bench and a music stand.
If anybody found $30,000 on the sidewalk and wants to help me out, go read this article. Then give that money to a responsible charity or something.
But seriously - that piano sounds amazing. Dear Santa...