I realized something the other day – playing the piano is tough.

Now, some of you out there might be thinking, “What do you mean?

“All you’re doing is just pushing a bunch of buttons.”

Until recently, I would have agreed with you.

Those dad-gummed pianists just make it look so easy.

So I signed up for Piano I for Non Majors.

Why not? I play a little guitar, and this could help me improve those skills while learning another instrument.

And hey – Fats Domino is the man.

I added the class late, after a spot opened up, but I figured it was no problem at all.

Like I said, it’s just pushing buttons, right?

Well, apparently, those buttons are called “keys.”

And that was not the least of my worries.

I immediately was sat at a keyboard and had to follow along and press these keys along with some sort of graphic notations in the book.

I had to learn how to read these bizarre pictographs and use not one, but both of my hands.

Couple that with the fact that I have the coordination of an infant giraffe and the rhythm of, well, a white guy, and I was in for a rough 50 minutes.

So there we were, my classmates and I, going through a few pages of our textbook, the professor guiding us.

And then there was me alone, sweating through so-called simple pieces and either hitting the keys too early, too late or not at all.

I bet after a few hours of practice, it’ll all come easy, and I’ll be playing cantatas and what have you with no problem.

But first, I have to get this whole left-hand-in-sync-with-right-hand thing going.

Something tells me that that is key (get it? key?) to my success.

Once I get that down, I bet I’ll be playing with the Metropolitan Opera.

Well, maybe not.

But I might finally be able to play Chopsticks.

Never quite been able to nail that one.