In Which I Tap My Foot And Try Not To Watch The Clock

Just 40 minutes now stand in between
Myself and freedom, and there's much to lure
Me out of here this Mridray: there's my keen
And burning lust for comics (yes, my pure
Delight in that crossover, Hellboy and
Those Beasts of Burden, has caused me to seek
Back issues of the latter), and -- how grand! --
My co-author has come through with a squeak
And zapped me chapter two of what we hope
Shall be a great weird western novel (I
Can't have a gander now though, because, nope,
My use of beta software wouldn't fly
Here at the day gig). And there's work to do
On my days off, oh yes. Oh, fly, Time, shoo!

In Which I Become A Clock-Watching Fool

Two days from now, almost right to this hour
I'll be crammed in a nasty airplane seat
Bound for points west. It's barely in my pow'r
To keep my cool. Vacation time is sweet,
E'en when, as I shall do, it's to do work:
My sister's house did not come with a deck,
A common but a not-so-charming quirk
Which needs redressed quite soon; she'll be a wreck
Until the job is done. Sherrods do not
Do well without a place to sit outdoors,
Sip beer and watch the birds from a cool spot
(And by sip beer - that's anything but Coors).
Two days and counting down! Meanwhile I sit
At work on my Friday, and just fidget.