One. More. Time. I'm sitting here with my eyes squinted and my fingers pinched together near my temples, willing you to understand, Universe. I don't know how to be any more clear. I've completely drained my reservoir of communication skills and have resorted to mentally screaming in block letters.
I DON'T PLAY THE PIANO.
I'm not just being modest or demure. I really, genuinely, honestly do not know how to play the piano. Please stop asking me to do so in public.
Someday, maybe I'll cultivate it as a skill. In the mean time, I'm going to work on rocking my baby, because she's teething and needs her Mama. Also, my fridge needs cleaning out, I haven't done my visiting teaching, I need to practice the (insert expletive here) organ, I just planted Tomato Extravaganza: 2010 Edition and I need to fertilize, my Jeep needs a good scrub so we can sell it, the laundry isn't folded, I have a certain speaking engagement coming up that I should prepare for, and, oh yeah, I have to work full time. Remember?
So forgive me, Universe, if preparing on extraordinarily short notice to play in front of coworkers and strangers isn't high on my priority list. Luckily for you, apparently I have terrible personal boundaries and tend to give in to peer pressure, so I'll be doing it anyway.
Oh, and one more thing. I have Gilmore Girls on in the background, which I've never watched before. The dialogue goes unnaturally fast, and it's distracting. Just sayin'.