june 5, 2017 | 11:44pm, 4m | vacuum

crimson and clover, over and over. i’ve always liked that coda to that song. (stares at keyboard.) speaking of which, i could have practiced much more today. even though i did laundry, taught three lessons and led a rehearsal, and did indeed practice a tiny bit, it felt squeezed in and didn’t come close to what i needed to accomplish. i also made two hot dogs and two tamales. tomorrow we have housekeepers coming—plural, but the service specified, “one will clean and the other will not”—and the whole thing has me beside myself with nerves. what will they think of this cave of memories, this living accumulation of an apartment, this rainforest cafe of decorations from parties that never come down. my happy home. this treasure home. well, i plan to close myself off in the piano room, where they won’t clean. and practice. and then head off to teach. and lead a studio recital. someone dropped out today—actually her mother dropped her out. i’d had the young girl on the list and excited to play, and her mother introduced a million excuses as to why the girl couldn’t participate (including the impossible window of an hour-and-a-half between school ending and getting to the venue). i spoke little and shut the door hard behind me, regretting only that i said i’d see them in two weeks when i really meant i’d probably see them never. i break up with students who flake on recitals. last year i fired three on the same day for the same reason, and my mondays remained free this entire year. every day i think of this legend people tell about how glenn gould used to have a cleaning woman vacuum near him as he practiced. i get it. but i always thought, ‘ wait he had a cleaning woman?’