Furnaces and unpopular opinions

Today the furnace guy came to do a fall inspection for us. He was a big guy with curly gray hair and one of those mustaches that goes straight down on either side of the mouth, as though it's looking to join up with a beard that isn't there. The connection between his jeans and his hips was precarious.

When he was done with the furnace, he came upstairs to the dining room to write me a receipt. "Oh," he said, looking on top of the piano where all the other musical instruments are. "Who plays the dulcimer?"

"Well, it's mine," I said, "but I haven't learned to play it."

"It's easy," he said, lifting it off the piano. (I was thankful that I had at least dusted it.) "Got a pick?"

I didn't, so he got a dollar bill out of his pocket and folded it up. Then he tuned the dulcimer and played "Turkey In the Straw" and a really fast version of "Amazing Grace" while the kidlet danced around the table.

You just never know, do you?

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I can't resist offering ten unpopular fannish opinions. (musesfool appears to have launched this one; I first saw it by way of penknife.)

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