City streets and cheese

He concluded, after the course was complete, that cheese and beer were the perfect afternoon snack. But not just any beer would do, thought he, as he considered the dark brown bottle of Samuel Adams. It had to be a lager made from wheat, as was noted on the label. Shifting his thoughts to the cheese now digesting in his stomach, he realized that of all the cheese the world had to offer, only the soft texture and delicious taste of cloby jack would appease his pallet.
With a deep breath, he stretched his legs underneath his kitchen table and let his gaze wander around the room, making mental notes as to how barren his apartment seemed. The walls were painted white and bare of any decorations. The floor was covered by laminated tiles that presented a triangular picture drawn in the center of each tile. The refrigerator hummed, seemingly uninterested in the happenings of life in general. Next to it, the stove remained cold, as if it were hibernating. The sink faucet had a steady drip of water every couple of seconds, the light splash of water the only sound at the moment.
He crinkled his nose in contempt of realizing how drab his lifestyle was, how much better it could be if only he had a radio with which to listen to some music.
"Ok, then," he stated. "I'll get a radio."
Having forgotten the bottle, he stood up from his seat and headed directly for the door. He pulled it open and stepped into the hallway. He closed and locked the door behind him. He deposited his keys into his left pocket, rubbing his left palm against the outside of his pocket as he reminded himself where he had stashed his keys. Confident that his place was secure from theft, he walked to the front door and emerged onto the city street.