Close Call

Our piano is currently out of tune enough that I'm aware of it. It's a recent addition to our lives, so we've had to wait for it to adjust to our house before getting it tuned. Let's just say we've been anxiously awaiting the day the tuner would arrive and set things right.

Well. Two weeks ago today was the big day. The piano tuner, whom I had previously met when he moved the piano into our house, was supposed to arrive between 9 and 10 a.m. to tune our lovely new piano. About 9:30, as I looked out the window yet again to make sure he wouldn't be knocking on the door while I dried my hair, the phone rang. It was Dave, not the piano guy. Our conversation went as follows:

Dave: Did the piano tuner come yet?
Sarah: Not yet. I've been checking out the window but I haven't seen him.
Dave: That's because he's standing in our courtroom.
Sarah: What do you mean? We don't have one. [I'm thinking he's standing in a courtyard at some random apartment building, not able to get in because we don't live there.]
Dave: Exactly. He's standing here in our courtroom as a defendant.
Sarah: [Silence. Mouth hanging wide open. No words.]

So, to recap: This piano tuner works in three counties and happened to commit a crime in our county that led to him appearing in court in front of Dave's judge (who is only one of many judges in the county) several months after his crime at the very same moment he was supposed to be in our house. We thought he was going to arrive on our doorstep at any moment once the hearing was over, so the judge told Dave to "go home and take care of the piano situation."

While not violent, given the nature of the crimes Dave didn't want the piano tuner alone in the house with his wife and kids so he took the judge up on his offer and came home to wait. The tuner ended up not being able to make it at all because the probation office took too long---he called me to apologize and said he was being "held up by bureaucracy." We are not going to reschedule.