I'm on my way home - where I live now. I've been where I used to live, I think it's my family home and my mother or stepmother was there. I've been moved out for some while, but I'm finally moving out the last things. Right now I'm pulling a piano behind me. I don't have any other way of getting it home, so I've rigged a harness so I can pull it on its casters. It's not big, maybe it's a baby grand - black, curvy shape, definitely not an upright. Fairly easy to pull, but still quite a chore to get it all the way there. I have to pull it on the street, of course, and it's causing somewhat of a traffic problem. Especially, I have to go up some stairs, fairly steep and rather long. [Never mind that the cars couldn't go up steps - they're still there.] Part of me says I can't do this, but little by little up we go. It's hard but not as hard as I thought it would be. I'm worried about losing it altogether and it falling back, but at least there are cars behind me (I'm concerned about that - they're lining up and I'm so slow) and the one behind me would stop it. Actually, I kind of wish it would help me by pushing. But finally I get it up to the top, very slowly, very slowly, bit by bit. As it gets on level ground one wheel at a time, I'm more relieved. I pull it off to the side so the traffic can get past and rest. This isn't exactly outdoors any more, by the way, it's some sort of department store. I think about what I need to do to get it the rest of the way home.