The insulation in my ceiling's back
As it belongs (long story; there's no way
I'll fit it in a sonnet -- but the lack
Of same has left me shiv'ring, yes!).
Two days stuck home and waiting reached an end,
But now I'm waiting still, but must confess
This waiting is more pleasant, for my friend
Is breezing through my town on errands for
The house she's building, and we're soon to dine
(Though she has still got just one errand more,
Or maybe two, whatever, it's all fine
Except I'm hungry!). What a weekend, no?
Back to the salt mine, too, I soon must go.