Last week as I counted through the nerve-wracking mixed meters of Bernstein’s ballet Fancy Free (in a performance for which I had only one rehearsal), I noticed a black button-like object on the floor of the pit in front of my music stand. The object vaguely irritated me. If my chair had not been on a podium, I probably would have taken perverse pleasure in kicking it away. Much to my surprise, that night when I arrived home and set down my coat, purse and viola case, I discovered a sharp screw tip sticking out of the bottom of the case. In a flash I put two and two together. The black “button” I’d seen wasn’t a button at all; it was one of the screw-covering bumpers from the bottom of my case!
Despairing of ever seeing that bumper again, I rigged up a quick fix with a bit of eraser and duct tape to cover the protruding screw. I figured this was better than scratching our parquet floors – or worse, impaling someone accidentally on the subway.
Today when I returned to rehearse in the pit I made a beeline to check the floor near my chair. Voila! The black bumper was in exactly the same spot. (Thank God cleaning the pit isn’t high on the priority list at the David H. Koch Theater…) Being reunited with my bumper made me feel something akin to glee. Which got me thinking…
If a screw cover makes me this happy, does this mean I have a screw loose?
Maybe. But I figure if little things still make me happy, I’ll be better off in the long run. Remember…
“You don’t stop laughing when you grow old, you grow old when you stop laughing.”
(George Bernard Shaw)
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