Pre-Mid Life Crisis?

So, I was emcee-ing a charity event last night. It was fantastic. A live auction was part of the event. I spied a piano. You'd think I'm a piano player, right? I'm a 'tinker-er' of the ivories. When i was wee little, I taught myself to play the flute. And I had a Yamaha keyboard, but I'm not sure if that earned me the moniker "piano player." Last year, I bought the most gorgeous Native American flute, and I'm playing that. Oh, and there's my big, black guitar I call "Big Bertha."

Anywho, I had to have that piano. Had. To. I figured I wouldn't have much competition, and I knew that my money would be going to a good cause, and I knew my limit.

I bid. I raised. I won.

Then I thought to myself, "Am I really gonna play this thing?" Was it all the wine I consumed that influenced my bidding? Did I just "drunk shop" at a charity event? Am I having a pre-midlife crisis?

Then I said to myself, "Fuck that. I bought it because I've always wanted an oldie-but-goodie piano. I'm an adult. I make money. I'm single-- don't have to fight with the Mister over expenditures. My only child is my dog-- don't have to save for his college education. Plus, it was for charity."

And on top of it all-- I got the piano because a girl needs SOMETHING to bang when the mood strikes.

XO,
RiRi