There's something that intrigues me about dusty keys of a piano. I'm sure if my mom heard me say that, she'd think, "Oh. Is that why you always refused to dust the piano growing up?" The piano at my house is an antique. It's extremely old and the ivory has scratches and marks. I've lived in my house for almost an entire year now, yet I have never dusted the piano. I tried explaining it to Mr. Schroeder just the other day. It went a little somethin like this..
You know when there is something you're extremely passionate about and you haven't driven it, experienced it, played with it, spent time with it....for awhile? Then when you finally get the chance to be with this thing you're passionate about, you never want to stop? You never want to quit riding, you never want to quit playing, and you feel like you could just do it for hours because you missed it so much? I'm pretty sure Mr. Schroeder likened this with his dirt bike. He never rides the thing, yet he loves his bike like a child. This is the explanation of my dusty keys analogy. Though I play the piano more than not, the idea of dusty keys gets me feeling like I never need to stop simply because 'it's been a little while.'
