Tough luck for Tom.

 Tom sat at his computer. He was aware of the sound of rain.

"Rain only has a sound when it touches something else." he thought. What Tom was really hearing was the solidness of the things that the rain was crashing into. 

It was Saturday morning, quite early really, and Tom was the only person in his house who was not asleep. His first job, on exiting bed, had been to turn a heater on. His second job involved the room that contained four taps and a thing that you were expected to flush after use. 

Tom organised his thoughts as best he could. He checked a blog site for any updates. There was the same post. Short, but then the author had copied all the words from a song. Tom had skimmed through and got the main idea. He figured it was about life being hard. 

Close to his computer there was a music stand.

A folder of music had been left on it. It was open at pages 3 and 4. There was no clear indication why these two pages should be exposed. The music used a treble clef - it could have been intended for a variety of instruments. There were lots of black dots, which probably gave an interested bystander a little more indication of what type of music was in his sight line. Though, only a musician would have spent more time trying to decipher its intent.

Next to the music stand, well within the distance of a metre, sat a white machine. This machine was attracting Tom's attention today. This room, and the one beside it, fitted well  into the description 'cluttered'.

Tom felt aware that there was definitely no room to put a grand piano in either of these rooms.

He guessed that it would be a stretch to fit in even a violoncello, or something a bit bigger. Then his thoughts went back to the white machine. 

In one instant it provided both a solution and a problem. Tom knew that there was a space where it should be, but the problem was getting it there, and that wouldn't be happening in the next few days. Tough luck for the grand piano. Tough luck for Tom.