One day, I will have a music room, filled with instruments. A piano, of course, but perhaps a digital one in addition to the classic baby grand, so I can transcribe the notes directly onto computer. A hammered dulcimer, certainly. Wind chimes, near a window. A drum set, perhaps, but not just the snares and bass; hand drums (what are they called in Gaelic?) shakers…a brass instrument here or there…
and I will know how to play them all.
But I especially want the hammered dulcimer.
(Still working on the med school essay. Just signed up for biochemistry this fall. Decided to not worry about it kicking my ass, even though it probably will, because Bernard, a coworker, told me not to. And as the song says:
Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as
effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum.)