[1]Another three-day weekend alone, and still, the morning got off to a great start. The weather was mild, I read the paper, took Rose for a vigorous walk in the park, and afterwards, we lingered in the sun on the chaise lounge in back. Then I got in the car, because I’d promised to pick up a friend at the airport. LAX was a crowded, irritable place. While loading in the luggage, an angry guy in a truck leaned on his horn, and pretended to throw a water bottle at my face, because I momentarily blocked him. What a jerk! I flashed him the peace sign, and drove off.
Image: Angry Louise, by Louise Fishman [1], 1973