I’m pretty miserable at piano. I know only one song (which I memorized in 8th grade so our piano wouldn’t go completely unused), and even though I know how to read music, something happens to my brain when I sit down in front of a piano.
In my defense, it’s not all my fault. When I was in 3rd grade, my piano teacher, who by this point was entirely fed up with my less-than-stellar practice habits, issued an ultimatum: baseball or piano. So I did what any sensible 9-year old would do when put to such an absurd choice. “Peace out, lady.” I can’t really remember, but I must have hit a grand slam and pitched a perfect game that night or something.