Finally, the weekend. For me, that means house-stalking (we're not ready for the kill yet, just looking) with Jeffrey and hours of cramming for my piano lesson tomorrow. We saw a couple of very nice houses today. I generally like to see a house when it's empty, because I feel a little uncomfortably voyeuristic if all their stuff is there. On the other hand, having stuff there helps me imagine how our life might be. As we were walking around our favorite house today, Jeffrey said, "If they have the same books and movies as us, we'll know they're like us." And sure enough, they did. We saw a lot of David Foster Wallace, one of my favorite writers, including "Infinite Jest" with a bookmark really far in! Also, two copies of Gravity's Rainbow, which Jeffrey has. I really, really liked that house, but it's expensive. We're going to meet with our mortgage person tomorrow to see what kinds of houses we should even be looking at. Probably we've been looking way past our limit. But we'll find out more tomorrow.
The piano is going OK. I'm learning the key of D major right now, which hasn't stuck to my brain yet. And I'm not even close to halfway through the scales yet. Last night I sneaked ahead in my piano book and found a really beautiful arrangement of "Amazing Grace." It was so moving that I felt like I didn't even have the right to be playing it. It gave me a great appreciation for the writers of those piano books, who are very good at pacing and giving you pretty pieces that you can play. It's weird, though. I really want to be able to go back and play those pieces that used to be so hard for me, just to see how far I've come. But when I went back and played "Jingle Bells" last night, it wasn't that easy. Damn it.
Oh, and PS. Dear HBO. I'm really, really tired of Rome. Thank you.