A whole 250 words written sitting in a Starbucks after lunch. I'm annoyed that I not only really like this Starbucks coffee (Ethiopia Sidamo), but am comfortable with the earth-toned, track-lit motif and even like the soundtrack. A barista wandered over to point out that there was an outlet by my table so I could plug in the laptop. I'd like to be smugly liberal and be over in the apparently independent coffee shop that's nearby, but not only are they less comfortable to camp out in, they're more expensive.
It's good to get even a little bit accomplished. But I hate being so perfectly in this demographic.