Some time ago I bought a used harmonica. It was a silver Hohner, still in its durable cardboard box. I puffed a few notes out of it and put it away. Maybe, I thought, one day when I have totally lost my mind I will do lots of drugs and play it on streetcorners for passersby.
Sonja was looking at it the other day and searched the computer to find out everything there is to know about Hohner harmonicas. "Holy shit!" she said, "That stupid harmonica is worth large money to the right sick motherfucker. It was built back in World War Two. I wonder if I could find a how to play the harmonica book at a music store?"
Sonja found a harmonica book and her playing is coming along just fine, I guess. Good thing I did not come home with an accordion the day I came home with a harmonica.