My piano and I are simpatico. When I don’t play, it glowers; when I do, it shines.

Proof of our being in sync: I had no sooner stocked up on distilled water than I noticed the flashing light that tells me when the piano’s humidifier needs filling.

The piano has made me more aware of indoor humidity or lack thereof. Of outdoor humidity I need no reminders. I live in a region of high stickiness and temper my warm-weather activities accordingly.

But the dry air that keeps my tresses from frizzing is not good for my favorite instrument. The piano thrives in a moist environment. Which means I probably do, too.