Initially, I believed that I had things figured out.

As far as I could tell there were two options. Both seemed acceptable. Little did I know what was ready to show up for me behind door number three.

Instead of working on one project or another - likely the book, I decided to take apart the piano.

Please remove your jaw from the table or whatever device you’re reading this fool’s letter on. I’m not talking a piano piano with strings and stuff. No baby grands nor baby elephants were mutilated in the creation of this post. It’s an electric piano. Middle ‘c’ didn’t work.

Based on what I could determine, there was likely a faulty connection in the circuitry. Given my newly discovered ‘weird wiring’ I have even more empathy for all people and things with faulty connections.

Taking it apart went quickly. Screws, wires, circuit boards, rubber pressure pads and piano keys were strewn around my office for weeks. Sure, I had it apart in an hour. I took the steps prescribed in multiple youtube videos. Then? Then I abandoned the project.

Taking things apart is always the most fun for me.

Eventually, the sight of all the piano parts lying around my studio wore on me. Putting the piano back together again seemed more appealing than getting my taxes done. So, in the name of procrastination, I put it all back together.

Here’s where the two options come in. I imagined that I would either fix the damn thing and be able to sell it for a decent sum - likely what I paid for it ten years ago.

Or?

I’d have something to send to the second hand shop and someone else could make electric piano repair their problem. Or they could play songs without middle ‘c’. Either way, it would become welcome empty space in our home.

What I did not anticipate was what happened.

I repaired it. Middle ‘c’ worked.

But…

Oh my how I hate buts. Sure, I love my but. Farts are funny to me. Fart jokes? They are funny too. Further, an unofficial motto around here is ‘everybody poops’. In order for this to be true, everybody has a but in some way.

It seems every plan and project has a but as well.

Middle ‘c’ worked but the touch sensitivity on a big part of the keyboard - a whole section was not working. I made a mistake putting it back together. A big chunk of touch pads were installed incorrectly.

This fool was then facing a conundrum. Do I keep working on it?

That was never part of the plan.

But after investing time and thought into this piano that I almost fixed, I knew that I could take it further and make it better.

That was door number three.

Frequently when we start a project or enter into a relationship with someone, we can initially see things going a couple of ways.

We don’t anticipate the intrusion of the ‘but’

But the but is always there, ready to interrupt, to ‘but in’ at the most inopportune times with new information.

Door number three shows up to interrupt our binary thinking.

What happens with you when the ‘buts’ but in?

Do you keep fixing the piano?

Do you sell it as is?

Do you abandon it to the curb?

Or, do you create performance art and light the damn thing on fire?

Though my heart is telling me go buy some gasoline, my curiosity is egging me on - just twenty five more minutes… go for it dimwit!

What would you do?

Let me know in the comments. As for me?

I have a piano to fix.