The neighbor in the apartment next door has been practicing Clair de Lune most evenings for the past week or so.
They've been gradually improving and it's pleasant to listen to through the intermittent cricket chirps.
If they take song requests, I think Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1 in B-Flat Minor would create an appropriate ambiance for stormily working the nights away.
September has been a pretty quiet month, save for external events. As this is yet another procrasti-blog, I was wondering again whether a marker of adulthood is doing things that are not instantly enjoyable, but somehow peaceful because you've trained yourself to enjoy it. A sort of self-inflicted Stockholm situation of habituation.
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