This must be what going crazy feels like.

Our wonderful next door neighbours appear to have bought a piano. Or a keyboard that sounds like one through the walls.

You know what's not-fun? Listening to someone play Men of Harlech thirty times, and hitting the same freaking wrong note in the same place every single time.

Don't get me wrong; I can't even play chopsticks and whoever's playing is pretty good. But I wish she/he would play something I don't know, so I won't notice the mistakes!