Near the end of my bike ride home from work, I detected the unmistakable smell of burning charcoal.
First thought: Ah, one side of the sacred summer-aroma triangle -- the other two being fresh-cut grass and chlorine.
Second thought: Already? It's not even 3 o'clock.
But I need to remember that I'm not the only one around here who doesn't work a 9-to-5 schedule.
Grill on, sir or madam. Grill on.