Four lines of prose about: the band.
It's snowing at the moment. Which would be fine, but I need to go out and grab some more firewood at some point if I want this fire to last until morning.
And I'd rather not go out there right now.
"Hi Mom, what's going on?"
"Honey, you need to come home to talk some sense into your old man."
"Mom, he's eighty-five now - isn't that old enough for him to make his own decisions?"
"But sweetie, he's getting the band back together - and they're using the living room as their practice studio!"