I reserved a U-Haul truck for tomorrow. The only size they have available is a 17-footer. Too big, but it'll do.

Next order of business: obtain five copies of the house key, then return the original to Val. Easy, right?

At Rami's suggestion, I took the T outbound to Waban, where there is a hardware store just across the street. The guy there looked at the key, said it was a non-standard key type used in “apahtments” (Toto, we're not in the Midwest anymore!), and that a hardware store in Cleveland Circle would be able to do it. Sounds good.

Easy enough. I hopped back on the T inbound to Reservoir and found a hardware store in the Circle. This guy said they do handle this type of key — great! — but that they're out of stock and I should come back tomorrow. Not an option, I told him, and asked where I could go to have it done today. He said Washington Square. Sounds good.

I walked east on Beacon Street for maybe a mile and found it. They looked at my key and pronounced it beyond their abilities, but without prompting recommended Brookline Lock. Sounds good.

I walked south on Washington Street for a couple miles and happened upon a hardware store (not Brookline Lock, but it was worth a shot). The first guy said he thought they could do it; the key specialist said they couldn't, and gave me directions to the nearby Brookline Lock. Sounds good.

I finally arrived at the much-ballyhooed Brookline Lock. Bill took a look at my troublesome key and asked if it was the best copy I had. Ouch! Yes, it was. Bill grimaced and explained that it didn't calibrate properly to one height or the next, guessed at the proper settings, cut them, and told me to bring them back for replacement if they didn't work. Terrific! Except he made four copies, not five.

At this point, I was delirious. Please, just let it end. I figured I might have to come back anyway, and that four copies would be enough to start with. So I took no umbrage, thanked him, and walked up the street looking for nourishment.

After all that hopeless walking in the heat, I ducked into the nearest place I could find: Martin's Coffee Shop, a tiny diner squeezed into the space of an ordinary street shop. They made fries that melted in my mouth (due not to heat, but to the superb quality of the fries) and a burger topped generously with vegetables. A decision based purely on laziness proved to be an excellent move.

Sensing that I was ponderously close to the T, I followed my sense of direction a couple blocks downhill and one more to the left, and saw that familiar sign. I was at the Brookline Village stop — three stops east of Reservoir, except that I'd walked in a semicircle to get there. Intense.

Having used up my entire supply of walkatrons, I took the Green Line D into Kenmore and switched to the outbound B to get within a block of the house. Not quite direct, but easy and air-conditioned. I dropped off the key and examined the second-floor single rooms, which were not much smaller than the so-called “double” I'll be moving into.

On a lark (a large one that could safely support my weight), I helped a few people carry some groceries into the B'nai Moshe synagogue, and asked if they perhaps had a piano I could play. The cantor was most gracious and loquacious in showing me to the instrument and proving that he knew a bit about it. It was a Steinert (not -way) that needed work. But, as I told the cantor, it's better than what I've got. He offered advice — “build up a repertoire”, “set some goals”, “enter some competitions” — on the basis of his judgment that I have a “nice touch” and “a good sense of line and phrase”. The upshot: I have permission to practice there whenever the piano is available, provided that I ask him for feedback from time to time. It's a start.

Walked up Chestnut Hill Avenue, intending to get an idea of where the U-Haul shop was, but thought better of it when the opportunity presented itself to procure and imbibe 32 ounces of cold Gatorade. So I walked back to Reservoir and went home.

What a strange way to use a day. At least I got some exercise, familiarized myself with large swaths of Brighton and Brookline, played a real piano, and figured out where to get a key done right.