Unfortunately, as a "home planner," one is usually overwhelmed by many things, [...] imagining and simulating all kinds of scenarios. [...] And it's precisely these small details like the width of the sliding door in our case that later determine how comfortably one can live in a house. [...] because you spend 99% of your active time in the living room. The planning effort should then also go 99% there.
The other participants mainly have their own life experience in their toolbox—and no crystal ball in which yours can be seen. For me, the foundation of the day is that it starts well; in that respect, the navel of my planning world is, so to speak, my bathroom window. Here in my mental cinema, I sit next to Yvonne and see a homeowner of the "chilling pasha" kind—because I also consider it a misjudgment that only 1% of the spouse’s leisure time in a living room considered the center of the universe is spent on laundry logistics. So, do you now think we owe you a misdimensioned sliding door?
Nothing about a piano is mentioned in your introductory post, nor is anything of it visible. We only found out about it when the house was already built. So you can keep the black Peter.
A piano, a piano!—Our thanks for early information about this would certainly have been heard by Mother all the way to Massachusetts.
There is, after all, a time after the children; as a retiree, you surely spend much more time in the living room—and then you would be happy about a nice layout.
Occupational medicine shows a clear connection between oversized lounging in retirement and becoming decrepit. At least then you should personally clean your conservatory, and then minimizing dirt ingress will become even more important to you than not scraping the piano with your paunch. Men, tsk...