A Story
The man walked past the sliding glass door on the way to the pantry. It was indeed a beautiful day - a light breeze moving gently through the trees against a crystal blue sky.
He reached the pantry, grabbed a bag of spicy pork rinds, and returned to the couch in the dimly-lit den, where his paperback was waiting.
With apologies to Paul Harvey, where is the "REST of the story"?
I suppose it was an observation on the weather as much as anything. In SoCal we can get away with ignoring beautiful days like that - even in January - and sit inside and read instead. Odds are it will be just as nice tomorrow, right?
The book in question was Neal Stephenson's "Snow Crash." A fun read. I highly recommend it.