Need I Buy a Casio?

Sunday morning I woke early in my new bedroom, in my new apartment. After drinking a lovely cup of tea, I could help it no more - my fingers were itching for it, for days had passed without it. I had to play the piano. I began softly, but soon became lost in the piece and play the crescendos as written. It was wonderful to be in my new apartment on a beautiful Sunday morning playing my piano. I couldn't have been happier.

But...why is there always a but...then the knocker on the door went tap, tap, tap. My playing ceased abruptly as I squeezed my eyes shut, lowered my head and shook it, knowing what was coming. I wished I didn't have to go to the door, but there was no way to hide. I stood up from the rickety piano bench and slowly made my way to the door. Peering through the peep hole, I saw a small figure standing before the door, head bowed. I undid the locks and opened the door, revealing the figure to be that of an elderly woman. She lifted her head to look up at me, though before she had a chance to say anything, I began, "Can you hear the piano?"

"I live right downstairs and there is no soundproofing, so the noise just goes shoop right down, " her voice gruff. She wasn't happy, not one little bit.

"Oh, is it too early for you?" I said feeling horrible both for waking her and that I must have made my other neighbors' lives hell, but worse that I actually had a neighbor bother to chastise me for it.

"There are regulations here, you know."

I said that I did, but I thought they were from 8 am onward, but apparently it is 9 am onward. I introduced myself and tried to be as kind an apologetic as possible, but she seemed pretty upset to have a piano player move in above her. With a request that I let her know if she ever played her music too loud, she shuffled back down the hall in her slippers, curlers and magenta robe. I closed the door and slumped back on it, cursing the woman for not being deaf and mourning the loss of my Sunday morning routine.