I went to bed last night planning on taking my lunch at The Aristocrat pub today. The humidity had been broken by the front that moved through, the high was expected to be in the low '80s, and I was looking forward to taking the book I was reading, hopping on the Broad Ripple SUV, and pedaling over to enjoy a bowl of French onion soup and a sammich of some sort while chilling on their shady patio.
Then I walked into roomie's bedroom this morning where the TeeWee was blaring, only to find out that I'd need to change my plans. Dammit.
(Incidentally, The Aristocrat makes a guest appearance in The Weapon; unsurprising, since Mike Williamson lived around the corner for years.)