Piano lessons

Here I am, supposed to be getting my scales in. Fingers hovering over the keys, brain already switching off. Then the thought hits me—why the hell not? I slide down the bench, peel my socks off, and line my bare feet up with middle C. First few notes land like clunky bowling balls. By the time I'm three octaves up, the neighbors are probably checking the ceiling. The funniest part? It actually works. Sort of. My big toe nails a decent trill once I stop overthinking it. Ten minutes in, I'm sweating, laughing, and wondering how I’m ever going to explain the foot-shaped prints to my piano teacher.