A party. Co-worker Josh stands between 2 pianos and says, "I'm thinking (fantasizing). I'm singing now." I smile and say, "Ah, but I'm the real singer." I replace him between the pianos. I note that one is the old one and one is the new one. Lydia and my mother are preparing the party. They release little golden canaries in the room. I think, "They are sure pretty. I hope they don't get eaten or poop on the guests." The punch is red and lumpy. Lydia tastes it and says, "Yuck. The part where the eyes aren't cooked tastes terrible!" I try it gingerly.