I woke up on the wrong side of the inflatable bed this morning, thanks in part to a housemate we'll call "Clompy McClomperton." Today's goal will be to avoid human contact until the foul mood passes and I can ascertain who, if anyone, I'm actually this frustrated with.

Meanwhile, Kevin Week continues. I've been tagging along at events involving the temporarily repatriated Hamlinite, including a Twins game and several other drinking venues, and the Week has been entertaining if a bit expensive. I've only lived here about a month, so Kevin's visit also serves as a sort of tour of the area. Last night's activity: drinks at the Old Mexico in Roseville, one of those rare bars that still has ashtrays.

Tonight I'm taking a break, especially if I'm still all moody. Forget beer: I want homemade ice cream and a mid-nineties thriller.